A Trek to the Stars: The Potter Files
by Cole Pascal
Summary: Exiled for three centuries on a barren rock, Harry's saved by the crew of the Enterprise D. He makes it to the colony world his people planned to go to and finds they're just as insular as ever though Hermione and his friends set them on a better course. Their nuclear option, though, left Harry with no escape. A prophecy is once again in play and he's the Chosen One. Again.
1. Chapter 1

And so begins the beginning of the beginning. ^_~

* * *

Harry Potter stared at his meal. His rice and beans looked like moldy maggots, his steak looked like wood, and the cauliflower looked like brains covered with too orange cheese. He ate by rote, choking it down.

For three hundred some years he had eaten the same meals: his entree choices were tough soy protein steak, rubber-like eggplant parmigiano, or surprisingly nice but a bit too sweet stuffed manicotti; with sides of rice and beans, buttery egg noodles, or a baked potato; his only vegetable cheesy cauliflower, a hated food; and as a pudding, once more his only choice, something he never thought he could hate, treacle tarts. Each of those choices were the only stasis field protected foods to survive the crash. Even with the original foodstuffs to use the gemino charm on, duplicated food lost much of its flavor and visual appeal and the majority of its nutritional value. He had to eat four times the amount to get the same nutrients and the rest was roughage. His colon was in excellent order, he could tell.

Done, he turned to the computers, scowling. The transmitter array still had too little power to transmit through the atmosphere but he could still receive.

And he did receive. Starfleet classes, newsbursts, encrypted files—those got stored but left alone, and civilian stuff not to mention aliens he had never thought would exist. He had taught himself Klingon, Romulan, Vulcan, and immersed himself in his own culture, oft praying the rest had made it to their new homeworld as he delved deep into magical theory. He cried too often, thinking he would never discuss the things he had learned with Hermione or practice illusory magic with Fleur.

He opened the new class on warp field mechanics. The math was almost as complex as runic arithmancy and he was finding that if this world had any sort of magic on it, he might have been able to build a warp capable ship utilizing magic.

Sighing, he went back to reading, wishing there was more metal on this planet near the surface.

~•~

Harry swam back into consciousness, groaning in pain. His transfigured bed had turned back into a section of deck plating in the night—after sixteen months, he thought somewhat triumphantly—and he made a mental note to stop testing his charms' permanency on himself.

He left the room he had used as his latest bedroom—he kept switching to keep the mind out of too many patterns—and walked out to the airlock. A fifteen minute long check of his encounter suit and a bubblehead charm—the air pack hadn't worked for a century—and he was outside, walking the paths around his SOS message, recasting the charms that made sure the fluidic stone glowed brightly.

As he walked, he found himself thinking about his wives—though legally only Hermione had been his wife with Fleur as their personal assistant—and children, imagining once more what their lives had been like.

He smiled at the image of a many times great grandson with a hint of Hermione's hair in his and the Evanses's green eyes.

He brought his hand up to scratch his nose and chuckled weakly at hitting the aluminium oxynitride of the mask. Pressing the mask in place, he moved his head forward to itch his nose on the mask.

* * *

"Captain, I'm detecting a number of energy sources coming from Gedix VII," said Ensign Wallace. She was using Worf's station while he was on his meal break.

Picard turned away from the screen he had been studying. "What type?"

"A very weak emergency beacon is orbiting the planet and a handful of weak—wait, they all have identical signatures. I believe there's one refracted signature on the planet."

Picard moved to the weapons station and leaned over, studying the information then flicked it onto the main screen.

"Alright, let's move in close. We can finish surveying II after this."

~•~

Geordi studied the data alongside Data. "What do you think it is?"

"An unknown energy source powering a—"

"Not what I mean, Data. I mean, utilizing all the information of like scenarios, make a best guess."

Data hesitated, doing as requested. Forty seconds passed. "Unknown."

Geordi sighed. He had hoped the emotions chip would help but it hadn't. Oh, Data had a girlfriend of a sort now, but it hadn't helped with his imagination.

"A refracting carapace: a Sarlesian Wind Beetle lives in an atmosphere much like the upper atmosphere on this planet," Data relayed. "We can formulate a polymer utilizing a genetically modified Hallinan Spider to excrete the polymer then coat a combat duty runabout after reinforcing the analog structural integrity with the same armor plating as used on the upcoming Voyager class starship."

Geordi checked the data on all three and ran the idea through the computer. The simulation checked out. "What about the orthogonal radiation detected at the crash site?" Known to cause minor issues with most Starfleet technology but completely harmless to humans.

"The armor plating exists in the fourth dimension due to the trithium in its amalgamated structure. It will shield the shuttle from it." Data made a note to the project to suggest they set down seven kilometers upwind of the site as a precaution.

~•~

Deanna sat in her favorite chair, nursing a headache that wouldn't go away. Her husband and wife had left her in peace to have dinner in Ten-Forward while she nursed a nutrient shake and Beverly studied a real-time scan from her office.

There was a very quiet cheep sound then Beverly said, "There's no biological reason for your cluster migraine, Deanna. I'm authorizing the unlocking of your Minn-Lock." A small device that temporarily scrambled a betazed's mind to remove their telepathic—or empathic in Deanna's case—powers. It was addictive so only Beverly could unlock it.

Deanna took it from its small case and placed it against her temple, sighing in relief as the pain began to register as pleasure. She hoped the two would return soon.

~•~

Harry stared upwards at a strange presence. He wondered if perhaps it was a ship. Whatever it was, he could feel an energy, something touching his mind.

Then it was gone.

Sighing, he looked away. Tired, he went back to the wreckage, stopping to pay respect to the graves of those who perished on crashing or soon after. The planet's atmosphere had leaked in and poisoned them all, sterilizing and causing insanity. He had had to put a number down.

The creeping worry came back then: _what if i was the insane one and killed them all for no reason?_

Harry shook that off. The security footage he had reviewed showed, while he had also been affected, he had been under attack too.

He pulled his occlumency shields tight, pressing his emotions away, wondering if, someday, he might study with Vulcans to understand their emotional control. _What if they're magical too?_

~•~

Data felt a great amount of disappointment at being unable to accompany the away team. His positronic net and quantinary engrams would be scrambled by the orthogonal radiation.

He turned at hearing his quarter's doors open at 1811 hours. Ensign Emily Mayweather smiled at him. "Hi Data!"

He smiled back, his disappointment fading at seeing her. "Hello, Emily. How was your day?"

She pushed him backwards on to the couch then settled on his lap, and after a quick kiss, began telling him how Siri Walker had vomited his snack of Rinian sandworms on to two other pre-education children.

Her story has just finished and she was debating aloud what to make for dinner—while Data had no preferences, he had found that if he requested she make her mother's meatloaf, she was in a good mood for at least seventy-two hours afterwards—but before he could speak, his comm badge chimed. "Commander Data, report to combat bay two," said Geordi.

"Acknowledged." He smiled at a visibly disappointed Emily. "Why don't you make your mom's meatloaf?"

She smiled. "Okay. And invite Commander LaForge if you finish before 1930?"

He nodded and kissed her cheek, nuzzling her a bit then left as she began replicating ingredients for four.

As he walked, he analyzed their interaction, comparing it to previous days, other relationships aboard ship, historical relationship data, and relationship texts and came to the conclusion at Emily loved him with a 13% error of margin.

Data copied that computation to his relationship archives then stepped aboard a waiting turbolift.

* * *

Two months of converting a combat craft, three concurrent months of growing spiders and inducing significant web production—as well as causing Lt. Barclay to have a nervous breakdown after walking into the wrong science lab—and converting the biopolymer into paint, and careful application over 73 hours—by Data in one stretch—the craft was ready.

~•~

Harry closed his test. He had scored 77% overall. Too low to pass Starfleet but even if he wasn't on this planet, his goal wasn't to join. His goal was to build his own Starship utilizing magic. _If we haven't already built them_, he thought.

Optimism for his people was the only thing keeping him going.

He looked at his parchment where he detailed his knowledge. He had eschewed biology and the like. Even if he had the knowledge of a doctor of his time, he'd be woefully out of touch in less than a decade. Hermione spent—_had spen_t, he reminded himself bitterly—most of her free time reading periodicals to learn new things that superseded what she had learned sometimes only weeks before

Harry smiled. _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_. The words began to form on the sheet, detailing his education. He had finished his mastery in Defense before they left, his charms, runes, and arithmancy masteries in the first two decades of travel, started an education in engineering from the auto-tutor and gained a Masters of Science in programming and a Masters of Science in mechanical engineering with a minor in warp technologies. Those were most likely woefully out of date, he admitted to himself, but they were a good start. The Federation had begun about that time and he had used those technological underpinnings to educate himself with the classes he began to pickup.

He sighed tiredly, glad to be done, he decided. Three centuries and while he knew he would learn new things, he decided his knowledge was enough. It was time to start designing a ship.

~•~

Riker studied his away team. Himself, trauma nurse Ensign Jasmine Potter, Lt. Jasmine Plisken—Worf's latest protégé, and Ensign Quorra Jasmine, a specialist on V9 class planets. He made a note on his PADD to chew out the tasking officer. All the Jasmines meant they weren't assigning away teams as randomly as they should.

They were waiting for Data to arrive for the mission brief.

He walked in a minute late.

"Apologies. Spot and Sparx escaped my quarters." Sparx was Emily's perpetual puppy.

He touched his PADD to the screen on the wall and data begin to fill the screen.

"Gedix VII is a class V9 planet," said Ensign Quorra Jasmine. "Class V9's have an atmosphere charged with human specific hallucinogenic compounds. A scoop probe released into the atmosphere showed that there is also a higher than usual amount or orthogonal radiation, beyond any save Earth's before the Eugenics wars."

"Orthogonal radiation," Potter said. "What exactly is it?"

"Unknown. It's theorized to be a significant component in the Gaia Hypothesis," said Data as he pulled up a layman's definition. "The Gaia Hypothesis states that the Earth is a single living organism with every organism upon it a node operator. Significant lines of it crossed the planet, resembling the Ley Lines that conspiracy theorists espoused were part of evil plans worldwide, with intersections where technology often failed to work properly. The Gaia Hypothesis espouses that these ley line equivalents are much like circuitry.

"It's been theorized that a still unknown deep-earth element reminiscent of post-transuranic elements is what causes orthogonal radiation production."

"Oh, that theory," Riker said. He had come across it before while at the Academy but immediately discounted it. "Continue Data."

"Yes, commander."

In the end it would take four hours to land on the planet, they would set down exactly seven kilometers upwind, travel at a pace to get them there in approximately three hours if their mapping was correct, and arrive at the wreckage at eleven thirty hours.

~•~

Riker yawned tiredly as he slid out of bed, slowing to kiss Brenna's shoulder and Deanna's temple in her bed then carried his uniform out from where he had stacked it the night before so he could dress and not wake his wives.

He had attempted to go to bed early since the mission began at 0430 but Brenna had been insistent that it was her night. Deanna had just smirked and closed the privacy door to the auxiliary bed in their quarters.

He finished dressing then tapped the replicator. "Riker coffee seven." Four shots in the dark, one ounce cream, two shots chocolate. His wakeup juice as Wesley called it.

It arrived in a travel mug and he left their quarters, nodding at the maintenance crews as they worked, repainting the corridors after the Eldoon incident.

~•~

Ensign Quorra Jasmine sat in the co-pilot's seat, checking the systems again, taking a sip of her coffee when she heard a grumbling Commander Riker enter the shuttle. She stood, coming to attention. She had gotten her commission on the battlefield in the Starfleet Marine Corps. "Good morning, sir," she said just a little too brightly for Riker.

"As you were," he replied, taking the pilot's seat and going over what she had been in the middle of.

The rest of the team arrived and Riker received permission from the captain—all ignoring a very grumpy Dr. Crusher-Picard in the background grumbling at the non-medical disturbance of her sleep—to depart.

As the ship's chronometer chimed a bell signifying 0430, the nose of the daVinci V exited the ship, following a rather dangerous course as Riker flew across the hull of the Enterprise less than a metre above it.

He tried not to smirk, noticing His co-pilot's white knuckles.

The radio chirruped. "Commander," came Worf's gravelly voice. "Once again, I must remind you of the captain's standing order?" To not do as he was doing.

Riker laughed and used the attitudinal jets to push off from the hull. "Copy, Worf."

He laid in the course then gave Jasmine the conn as he went back to get some more coffee and some of the baklava Plisken had brought.

~•~

The flight, aside from extreme turbulence, was normal. They landed and began putting on their encounter gear then each checked the person across from them.

~•~

Harry awoke. The storm was different than he was used to. Shrugging it off, he picked up his wands as he noticed today was a transfiguration practice day on the calendar.

After an hour of turning various bits of scrap into little blue humanoids that did a conga line, he decided on eating. He wrinkled his nose at the steak and cauliflower but ate it ravenously. He hadn't eaten in almost two days due to a spell crafting jag.

Then he felt the disturbance again.

~•~

Riker turned on the artificial gravity generators in his boots, switching them to fight the 1.3 earth normal gravity of the planet and give him a 0.4 gravity as he got a running start and leapt the eight metre chasm.

Testing the footing, he raised his arm. "Go!"

The rest of the away team made the same leap, Riker catching Plisken when she caught a foot on the edge.

He turned and looked down into the valley with the SOS in it. "If it wasn't a call for help, that color might be the most beautiful one i've ever seen."

"It looks like a DY-177 Generational-Sleeper ship," Plisken said, slapping her combat tricorder. Hardened to deal with issues like this planet, it was still being affected by its atmosphere. "Can't tell from here though. The orthogonal radiation is sending back strange refractions."

"Mass graveyard," Potter said. "Behind the ship. Life signs possible but same issue as Plisken's." Her hardened medical tricorder was just as affected.

Riker switched his gravity to 0.6 and leapt, using the attitudinal jets on the boots to compensate for his body's forward momentum to keep him upright.

"I love this job," the rest of the away team heard him say softly as he hit the ground.

Plisken followed him down while Jasmine and Potter took the longer path down, still studying their tricorders.

~•~

Harry finally realized what he was feeling. The muggle detectors were going off, silently trilling along his skin.

He slipped his wand out and gave a few careful flicks. Everything began putting itself away.

He picked up his trigger guardless 1911 and set it next to the sword of Gryffindor then pulled on the charmed encounter seat, modified for combat.

The airlock cycled in preparation as he picked up both weapons. The sword shrunk down to a wicked looking dagger at his thought then was sheathed on his belt.

~•~

"This registry doesn't exist in the historical archives," Plisken said. "But that's not surprising. About half of these Generational ships were escaping some sort of persecution—perceived or real—and GeneSys was very accommodating. Maybe a little too accommodating since Singh's ship was one of theirs too."

"This Isn't one of his, right?" Riker asked.

"No, sir," Potter said. "He and his people were in just the one DY-100 ship. This one looks like it might have been called the Gryffin?

"There's a breathable atmosphere inside. Still getting that lifesign. And now that I'm close enough, getting trace elements of bodily rem-AAAHH!"

~•~

Harry cycled the door open and found himself face to face with a blue lit face behind an encounter suit. Her mouth began to move but Harry's suit radio hadn't worked in a very long time due to his magic.

He looked them over then put the safety on on his gun at the sight of the Starfleet emblem and slipped it back into the suits holster and gestured them forwards.

~•~

Riker looked in surprise at the face of a haggard youth who looked at them like they were apparitions for a moment then gestured them forward.

He disappeared back into the airlock.

It cycled back open and seemed inviting.

He moved forward, ignoring Pliskin's admonitions.

Inside the ship after the cycling, Potter made a few notations. "We'll have to go to sickbay after but it's safe enough to remove the suits."

Riker was first out of his and was the first to see the young man return, carrying a handful of pens and pushing a large square of milky white transparent plastic on casters. Already written on it was hello.

"Hello, I'm Commander Riker of the Starship Enterprise."

The young man nodded as the others introduced themselves with Ensign Potter going last. The boy looked her over carefully though Riker wasn't surprised. The nurse was gorgeous, a winner of multiple body image awards on her homeworld from pre-puberty on he had read in her file.

He seemed to not see what he was looking for though then pushed her tricorder away before quickly writing on the board. _No scan hed._

He scratched that out then wrote slower and legibly _Please don't scan my head or deep scans, the graves, or the SOS. Cultural prohibitions._

The nurse nodded and went back to scanning him. "You're malnourished but relatively healthy," she concluded and put away the tricorder while Pliskin still looked suspicious, keeping her hand on her phaser but her own tricorder was off. Violating a culture would get her dishonorably discharged if Riker caught her.

"Long since spoke," the young man croaked.

"Writing is fine," Riker said. "We are prepared to take you and whatever you need to either the nearest colony, transfer you back to earth so Starfleet can get you to the colony you were supposed to go to if it still exists," Harry nodded, "or we can leave you here with more supplies."

_Go to Earth_, the young man wrote. _I'm Harry_. Then he fingered his dirty, lank hair and wrote _in more ways than one. _He decided not to state his family name for now as Riker laughed.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Harry, Riker, and Potter began moving crates from various storage areas to closer to the airlock while Pliskin and Jasmine headed back to get the combat craft.

"All this?" Harry asked.

"More than enough room," Riker assured him. " We could probably fit another ten of these crates."

Harry flipped them open, checking them over. Botanical supplies, shrunken and transfigured magical creatures, every wand of those who perished, their personal effects, his school trunk filled with his notes from his distance education, and other paraphernalia of his enforced hermitdom.

He remembered something and turned to find his chest of carvings. He had devoted nearly a decade to carving gem-like rocks he had excavated a few kilometres away.

"These valu-valuable?"

Riker took out his tricorder then whistled. "Yeah. This is pure dilithium, pretty damn pure. When we get back to Enterprise, we'll put your claim on this planet in and the Federation will negotiate mining rights. You should make a fair amount off it."

Harry nodded. "Take," he said, pressing the teddy bear carving at him while handing Potter the cat one.

He set aside the tin soldier and ballerina shaped crystals for the other two then he and Riker hefted the crate of crystals to join the rest.

They had finished moving the crates outside when the shuttlecraft arrived and Harry paused to admire the sleek design.

Once the shuttle was loaded, Harry and Riker made one last trip through the wreckage then Harry armed the self-destruct devices throughout, surprising Riker. Who was even more surprised at Harry's next request but he nodded.

"Please. Destroy graves, sign."

Once they were in the air, Riker fired a brace of micro photon torpedoes then used the phasers to burn the graves and SOS from the planet's surface.

Harry hid the tears but the evidence couldn't be investigated by muggles.

* * *

The five were finally done in the decontamination area and Harry's property was taken to the guest quarters they assigned him as Harry settled in on the biobed, sighing as he leaned back on it, reminded of the hospital wing, even if it had been centuries since the last time he'd been under Pomfrey's occasionally untender care.

"No scans of his head, Beverly," Potter said. "Cultural issues." Starfleet's Medical Corps had recently done away with requiring rank as a test of efficiency.

She nodded. "Once again, I'm Beverly Crusher-Picard. Welcome to the Enterprise."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Can scan. But…," he drawled off, thinking, his speech getting better with practice again. "I see results only?"

"We can do that, then I can show you a baseline of a human and you can tell me if anything's wrong? Or the computer alone can look. Then I can hardcopy it for you and delete the data."

Harry nodded. "Computer."

She nodded and started the scan once he laid back.

The biobed made a grumpling sound and she looked at it with a frown. She had spent three days reconfiguring the systems.

Beverly hit it. "Percussive maintenance."

Harry smirked. "Know well. Screen on ship fuzzy. Hit better." Even hardened against magic his affected it.

~•~

Deanna opened her hypo case and found she was out of pain relieving vasodilators.

She sighed and headed for sickbay. Then she brightened, realizing Riker should be done in decontamination and it was likely time for Beverly's coffee break. Or if her day had been bad enough, chocolate break.

The worst thing about being around humans was the constant emotional overload, Deanna mused. Half-human herself, she had grown up on Betazed, only interacting with them on occasion. She had done her medical training on Vulcan and had no issues there. It was when she went to San Francisco for Starfleet Academy then Command School and spent time around so many humans incapable of moderating their emotional transmissions that she learned the downside of minimal telepathy and powerful empathy.

When she walked into the medical bay and locked eyes with their new guest, her telepathy went active on its own and she found herself seeing his surface thoughts for half a moment before she was shoved backwards violently and he snarled angrily. "NO!"

Beverly rushed to Deanna as Riker turned to Harry, angry and confused. "Mind mine!" Harry snapped.

Deanna stood with Beverly's help. "I'm sorry," Deanna apologized. "I didn't mean to. I've never done that before except with other Betazeds."

"What happened?" Riker asked, now more confused than angry.

"I looked into his mind. He shoved me out. In more ways than one. Aside from the bruise I'm gonna get, that was actually a very interesting experience."

Harry looked sheepish and thoughtful, converting his thoughts to muggle speak before he spoke. "Mind walkers must ask permission first," he decided was best. "Minds inviolate sense of self. Rape." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth. They all nodded.

"So telepathy is part of your culture? I didn't realize there were humans capable of it when your people left," Beverly asked.

He nodded. "Governments tried to use us as weapons. We _changed_ their minds." That statement left shudders.

When they had begun the debates to leave, Harry had been 'captured' by government forces and they had tried to force him to fight Singh and his men. Harry had elected to melt their brains out of their ears then use the goo to write his very long, very rude reply.

His captivity had sold the rest of the magicals. If Harry Potter could be captured, what chance did they have?

Harry apologized again for his reaction and tried not to look down her lowcut top. He wrapped himself in his occlumenical shields tighter, banishing the thoughts the incredibly beautiful women around him caused.

Beverly gave him a diet to follow while on board to combat his diet related diseases she hadn't seen outside of textbooks and his malnutrition then told him to return the next day for his first dental implants to be placed once they were finished growing.

He nodded and followed his escort, a pretty dark skinned security officer as Deanna got her supplies and the two went to Beverly's office for paperwork and chocolate.

~•~

Picard studied the data on Harry. He was telepathic and/or telekinetic; approximately eighteen though isotopes were at levels of someone centuries older; cultural clues of high control over mental abilities; cultural clues of insularity—if they were actually persecuted, fully understandable; orthogonal radiation production in high stress situations; Plisken believed he moved like he was combat trained; significant signs of malnutrition—completely unsurprising; Riker liked him—even with the Deanna issue; Worf had assigned a guard of course; what little he said about his people intimated he had been alone a long time with the same foods for every meal—once more, unsurprising; Beverly had overheard Harry's discussion about his Starfleet classwork and suggested he talk with her son—he looked at the copies of Harry's exam results and even if the classes were old, he had done surprisingly well for someone mostly self-taught and no engram access; and a rather dry sense of humor from his people's reports.

He put the PADD down and looked at the lion fish in his aquarium, wondering how the lad created orthogonal radiation but glad it was so minimal. Forcing a guest to stay in quarantine would have been annoying.

~•~

Harry stood in front of the replicator in his room, staring at the selections. Even discounting the dozens of things he hated and items made with them and discounting alien dishes he was reluctant to try, there were still one million choices of muggle foods.

"Butterbeer?" he tried hopefully.

"Unknown item."

"Of course not." He thought about it. "Coke?"

"Please clarify."

"Coca-Cola?"

"What temperature?"

"Fifty degrees fahrenheit, sixteen ounces, straw?" Harry asked.

It appeared and he took a delighted sip. It was better than he remembered.

He set it aside and ordered two spears of asparagus, fruit of every type he could remember, broccoli, fried chicken, and everything else he could think of.

He took small bites of each, delighting in it all—even the watermelon though on Earth he hadn't been that enamored of it. Now it was heavenly.

He brushed off some crumbs from the one piece off duty uniform his escort had replicated for him. They Weren't good combat robes—his own design: black bdu trousers, dragon leather trench coatlike robes with a hood, black dragonhide boots, and a black tee with switching charms to a nice Savile Row suit—like he preferred but it was comfortable and didn't bind his movements though the boots were too thick soled and loose.

~•~

"Are you sure you're alright?" Riker asked Deanna as they watched Brenna prepare dinner—she accepted replicated ingredients though she grew as much as she could in the hydroponics bays but refused to let the machines prepare food for her spouses. The woman was humming a ditty she had learned from studying Deanna's culture as she worked.

The roast and veggies were soon set on the table by Brenna as Riker brought the salad. Deanna poured the wine and asked, "How was your day?"

"Lovely." She was in school, trying to shore up her education to get to at least the same level as secondary school graduates. "I got 100 on my exosociology exam."

"Sounds like someone deserves a kiss," Riker said, winking.

Deanna leaned over and gave Brenna a long kiss that left Riker breathless. And annoyed. He had been fishing for one for himself.

* * *

Wesley found Harry and his security escort coming out of a holodeck, the young man looking a little dazed.

"Hi, I'm Wesley Crusher, are you okay? What program were you using? That holodeck has a weird blurring issue on faster paced programs," he said quickly. "The best holodeck to use is on the command quarters deck."

Harry was reminded of his friend, Jean-Pierre, a cousin of Fleur's who helped them build their home in the highlands of Scotland and their vacation place in Saint Marie.

"He was watching a documentary on the 21st century," Williams said. "Sir, perhaps back to your quarters?" Harry looked unsteady.

Harry nodded then turned to Wesley. "Tomorrow. Ten-Forward, lunch?"

Wesley nodded excitedly.

~•~

"I met Harry," Wesley told his mother excitedly. "We're having lunch tomorrow. With his hair cut, he looks kinda like dad did."

She smiled. "Yes, I noticed that. How was class?"

"Self-study again," he said a little bitterly.

"Jean-Luc and I discussed you spending more time on the bridge as an Acting Ensign." His eyes widened as he stared at his mother. Currently he had one duty session a week of nine hours straddling the last four hours of the morning duty session and the first five of the afternoon session. All stations had six hour workdays except command which were on for twelve hours. "As long as your grades are maintained, you'll have three days on Navigation and the Conn alternating."

He hugged his mother tightly and she made an oomph sound as he pressed the air out of her lungs by accident. "Ooh, sorry mom!"

~•~

Wesley found Harry and his security escort sitting in Ten-Forward, the escort sipping at a tall fruit filled drink while Harry was watching the people from the corner as he looked at one of the PADDs the bar used for menus.

He nodded at the boy and gestured the waitress over. "The fruit salad, the ambrosial nectar, and three flame kebabs." Guinan was grilling them at the bar and they had filled the room with the most delicious scent.

Wesley sat down at Harry's gesture and asked, "did you really score an average of 81% on the entrance exams without tutoring?"

Harry nodded. "I didn't realize they were out of date."

"Still, it's impressive, especially without engrams."

"Which are? Your mother mentioned them before."

"Oh, right. Because the knowledge required to finish secondary schools and enter Starfleet is very advanced, certain things like earth history, the basics of math, uhh, all that minor stuff?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, all that? It's implanted in our minds. It's basic knowledge we use to build on but it takes too much time to learn on its own. With engrams I was doing trigonometry in my second year of primary."

Harry nodded again. That made a lot of sense. And sounded a bit like copying someone else's memory and implanting it in your own once its purged of the first person's individuality. Useful but if it wasn't actually used, pointless since it faded away. He had used Hermione's knowledge of arithmancy and runes to start his own education. Those memories were faint or gone but his learning more advanced segments had been faster thanks to them.

"But with that info as a base, you could be ready for Starfleet within two years easily."

Harry shook his head. "Going to my people's goal. There were man ships. They need to know what happened to the others."

"What planet?"

Harry shook his head. "Classified. Star charts memorized."

"Understandable. Wanna see more of the ship? The captain authorized you to visit everything except inside weapons storage."

Harry nodded at that. More information towards building his own ship, including all the unclassified metallurgical data, warp factor formulas, and so on.

Done with his meal, they left the bar.

As they walked, Wesley asked, "How're you gonna get there?"

Harry was getting better at using his words but had a flashback to not discussing his finances with Ron. He froze for a moment then remembered Ron was long dead. "Lots of Dilithium on planet, planetary mining rights mine. Use that to buy a warp ship. Top score on the pilot simulator on ship."

"We can run the academy simulator program on the holodeck. You'll be able to see the one I just passed."

That was more exciting to Harry than the tour.

~•~

Riker was just coming on duty and nursing a mug of coffee—he had pulled duty on the battle bridge so he could have his caffeine fix—when one of his personal programs was accessed. He verified it wasn't one of the more personal ones like Caligula's Rumpus Room—a pre-marriage program—and saw it was just one of the more advanced flight simulations. He noticed it was Frank-Unicorn-Kilo, his most difficult one—it was better known as the Riker-Fucking-Hates-Me program or the Kabayashi-Maru-of-shuttles program—and checked the user: "Ahh," he mused aloud and pulled up the cockpit view.

Inside the holodeck he could see Wesley taking the co-pilot's seat while Harry slumped in the pilot's, taking a moment to adjust its height and moving it forward. The young man studied the layout intently as he heard Wesley describing the capabilities of the jitney. The difficulty of the program was ratcheted up by the shuttle being 'filled with passengers' and under attack by Orion slavers.

The display stopped showing the gold and black triangle covered wall and instead a solid polymer ring around Dri Four, a pleasure planet near Vulcan.

Harry began powering up the shuttle and ran it through the training scenarios that were built in to all shuttles.

~•~

Harry finished the training sequences then the mission began. He flew through the asteroid field, ignoring the proximity sensors as they nearly burst his ear drums. "Shut those off, set them to visual."

Wesley did as told as Harry did a languid barrel roll and a new siren filled the air as the sensors detected Romulan Raider class scouts, armed and locking on at the same time as the distress call of a Federation shuttle.

Forty minutes later of harrowing flights through asteroid fields, every torpedo being sabotaged, the phasers burning out after disabling one Raider, a second raider destroyed by it flying into a meteor, and a third hitting the minefield of sabotaged torpedoes, the fourth raider destroyed their shuttle. And the holodeck.

Wesley and Harry exited the holodeck, coughing, eyes watering from the heavy smoke caused by the damage they had caused. An engineering team, Dr. Crusher, and Worf all appeared due to Williams alert.

Crusher scanned them as Wesley excitedly informed them how Harry and he had improvised turning the disabled micro torpedoes into proximity mines, how Harry had flown into paths of asteroids and utilized the gravitational fields of Romulan ships to destroy one of their followers before they died.

"A glorious death," Worf rumbled. Harry thought the stoic alien might have had a glint of admiration in his eye.

"Impressive," the engineer said after finishing the diagnostics. "He was pushing the processors beyond their capacity. They got so hot they burnt through their neural gelpacks and caused significant damage."

Harry started to apologize but both engineers waived it off. "Gives us a reason to upgrade all the holodecks," one said happily, the others nodded excitedly. "Which means we get to order the new modules from Starfleet." New modules had been noncritical so they were low on the supply requisition but with a core burnout, they were now a high priority. One of the engineers looked at Harry with a gimlet eye, wondering what else he could be sicced on to raise it up the resupply requisition list.

"I've never heard of anyone lasting longer than fifteen minutes in that simulation," Williams said.

"14:23," Riker said as he turned the corner. "What happened?"

Wesley explained it again, even more animatedly.

When Riker looked at Harry, the young man shrugged. "I like flying."

* * *

"He's definitely a source of orthagonal radiation," Beverly told her husband.

Jean-Luc studied the file. "How much?"

"Not much. Not enough to cause problems but when he's agitated, it rises. When he and Nurse Potter were discussing her family leaving their colony, he got agitated then very depressed."

"Interesting. Shame he won't discuss his culture but it's understandable. He wants to find out if his people still exist. He made it sound like they were quite persecuted. Even discounting time causing the stories to worsen through the generations, it's a horrid tale."

Beverly nodded. "He and Wesley are getting along well. He understands most aspects of Starfleet training even if its fifty years old. It's interesting his radio was able to pick up those old transmissions."

"We detected the remnants of the Praxian on Gedix III, its computers still working but damaged. Instead of sending an SOS on the subspace systems, it sent its educational database over radio." An older Starfleet academy ship. "How's his medical health beyond that?"

"Fixing his malnourishment. He let me scan his head but looked at the results himself. I kept the results but they're in a locked file." In case it was needed to diagnose him if he were injured while aboard.

Picard nodded and speared a hunk of coconut fish from her plate.

"Bastard," she teased.

"A courier ship will be coming alongside in two days. He'll transfer to that so make sure his files are ready to transfer."

"How much dilithium is on the planet?" Beverly asked, looking at the crystal bellflower he had given her. She flicked it and it chimed delicately. She wondered how he had fit the bell onto the vine since it was a ball-joint.

"The scans, even discounting refraction, he'll be able to buy Ferenginar." The lieutenant who had done the scan had left his notes in the file with the almost not hyperbolic statement that the planet was more dilithium than planet.

"_His_ scans are strange. The isotopes in his system… they say he's like 386 years old."

"He must have a wonderful moisturizer," Picard mused.

Beverly laughed at that. "I hope his cellular structure isn't too badly damaged from the elements on that planet. His cellular diffusion say he's about eighteen. He deserves a good long life somewhere.

"Wesley is really enjoying their study sessions," she changed the subject. "Things Wesley had issues with before? Once he started trying to explain them to Harry, he found himself really understanding the material." Wesley was a genius but even geniuses struggled outside their fields if they didn't devote time to them.

"Once I became a TA at the academy, I learned a lot more," Jean-Luc affirmed. "Perhaps dessert?"

"I didn't prepar—oh!" She smiled at him.

* * *

Picard was a little annoyed with himself. Harry had been aboard nearly three weeks now but he was just now having the time to meet him. Officer reviews, a significant level of eyes-only files, and a report on a number of Federation outposts along what was known as the badlands—the longest border of Federation space not abutting other Empires like the Romulans, Klingons, Breen, Cardassians, and Tholians and full of systems being robotically explored for life or being terraformed—had kept him fully occupied.

He walked into the holodeck and found Harry, Wesley, and a few other young ensigns and older teenagers were watching the Parrises Squares team practicing for the next tournament on Deep Space Station B-4.

~•~

Harry shook Picard's hand as Wesley introduced them. The man had a presence about him that Fudge would have sold his soul to have. An aura of respectability and fully justified pride.

"Thanks Again for the ride," Harry said.

"It's our honor," Picard replied. "And, at the least, our duty. I saw your test scores. Have you rethought joining Starfleet?"

Harry shrugged. "Finding the planet we attempted to colonize has to be a priority. Failing that, Federation service is a possibility."

* * *

Harry thanked the pilot and the engineering crew of the courier ship—they ran their engines at such close tolerances that courier ships often had 15 to 30 engineers hot bunking and a single pilot that lived on the bridge leaving Harry in a small room and utterly gobsmacked at their dedication to their 9.88 warp speed capable ship—then turned and nodded at the Federation representatives awaiting him.

~•~

Three days of negotiations had gotten Harry exactly what he needed, a warp capable ship—in fact a captain's yacht from a galaxy class ship armed with seven phase banks and two pairs of micro-torpedo projectors—that was being refitted to withstand orthogonal radiation; Hwart's Valley, a wooded preserve in Northern Scotland that people avoided for its naturally occurring high orthogonal radiation—he had convinced the Earth Council he would explain what he could if he found his people; so much latinum someone joked every Ferengi ever orgasmed the moment Harry signed his name and mark—to others it looked like a stylized X, to Harry it was both his wands crossed, his personal rune; a pilot to train him up on the ship before he left; a second decommissioned starship that was just hull and keel—they had nodded knowingly since he would soon be rich enough to turn it into any type of ship he wanted; and entrance to the Academy as a civilian auditor if he wished. Harry wasn't sure if he was going to accept that. Their psychological profiling was too good for him to keep his secrets to enter as a prospective cadet and a civilian auditor meant no interesting postings.

~•~

Commodore Cantor opened the new intelligence file on Harry 'X' and read it carefully, occasionally looking at the photos of the young man on his wall screen.

He opened another file.

The occasional child was marked as causing this same type of radiation in high stress moments but nearly all disappeared by age ten into an advanced education track with their parents receiving offers to move to a colony that eschewed Federation contact. The majority took it while those who stayed on earth wouldn't discuss their children's education beyond small talk.

When the students returned to the Federation ten years later, they were mostly uninterested in Federation, Starfleet, or remaining on Earth or their colony worlds. They usually left the Federation records permanently after age 21.

Cantor flipped to students that didn't enter the education track and saw the majority also left higher tech colonies and emigrated to worlds dedicated to earlier ideals like the Mennonite colony in the Praxis system or other farming worlds. None had ever entered Starfleet it looked like. They also stopped causing the radiation over time.

Cantor flipped to the medical information they had collected on a number of the children, including two who had passed away in accidents and had their bodies stolen before they could be incinerated. Each had deeper sulcus and a darker gyrus than baseline as well as a highly developed web of connective tissue in the Longitudinal Fissure. There seemed to be no physiological reason for these differences.

He looked at the autopsy of those adults who had eschewed the educational track. The connective tissue had atrophied though their brain matter kept the darker tone and deeper sulcus.

Operatives of Section 31 who had tried to find the colony had found nothing in the Sirius system beyond the known colonies and the ruins of a failed colony called Londinium that was used as a refueling and landing station by the colonies since there was an underground train between them all and a desire not to have loud noises over the capitol colony of Arcanium or the other six colonies. The other habitable planet had been destroyed by a failed terraforming job and was uninhabitable.

Cantor closed the files and checked to see if Lt. Morrissey had placed the tracking device on the yacht as he had been tasked.

~•~

Harry shook the hands of Lt. Commander Juno Castle and Ensign Alexis Eclipse, trying not to stare at either woman's cleavage—three hundred years of being alone had him forgetting how to deal around beautiful women, he found. He wrapped his lustful thoughts in his mind away from his working thoughts, remembering just then he had almost eidetic memory.

This was a civilian assignment so both were in their own clothing. For Eclipse a merchant marine pilot's white jumpsuit unzipped to her navel, high heeled boots with metal shanks and open toes on them, and a brightly colored floral fishnet bodysuit beneath. Castle wore a low cut tank under a leather jacket and a short skirt over neon striped tights and high heeled boots. She reminded him of Tonks. "Wow, a captain's yacht with combat modifications? How did you swing this?" Juno asked.

"I asked please and smiled winningly," he replied, aping Lockhart's smile. Both women blushed a little bit as his eyes twinkled, seemingly promising pleasure beyond measure. He left out the compulsion charms to grant him the dispensation to acquire contemporary equipment instead of surplus that wouldn't reach Sirius in less than six months.

"Eclipse will be your training officer," Castle said as soon as she had calmed her heart enough. "I'll be evaluating her conduct to verify she's ready to be a full time training pilot."

Harry nodded and they headed towards the simulators as the dry-dock workers began disassembling Harry's new ship. They were adding the radiation protection the Enterprise had used on the craft that had rescued him.

~•~

Harry had passed the instruction sessions in less than three weeks and since both women were on TAD for the three months required to refit his ship, they were playing tour guide, showing Harry around the various cities of Earth.

The first city was San Francisco and the few times Harry slipped—he had been there a number of times in the early 2000s—he had been able to play it off as having expected it to be a certain way due to the books on his ship.

Alexis pushed a door open. "This is the best Chinese restaurant in the Americas."

As they sat down and the waitress poured tea, Alexis told Harry, "They grow their food themselves—"

"Just the vegetables and spices. We use in vitro pork and chicken with the beef being synthesizer fare. The seafood is naturally grown in Japan," the waitress corrected.

Alexis nodded in thanks for the correction.

"In vitro?" Harry asked. That sounded familiar but he had done his biology work years before.

"Cuts of meat grown in a lab instead of real animal on a farm."

Harry nodded. "Oh, right, I remember that now. How Kahn and his followers were created."

"He was?" Juno asked. "All the data from back then was lost. Well, not all but most of it. If you have access to stuff from back then, Terra Archaeology would be ecstatic."

Harry took out his pad of paper—the PADD Deanna had given him after he had apologized for hurting her (with a chocolate tart) had burnt out on him after he absentmindedly used a summoning charm on it—and made a note to check his files. A former Auror, he had very good chronicling habits ingrained both by Kingsley and Hermione.

Harry ordered the mu shu pork—he loved cabbage except when it was fermented—and the house vegetarian dish—once he verified it didn't have cauliflower—along with his favorite cocktail, Death In the Afternoon.

Over the next few weeks, the Alexis and Juno happily showed him the most populous cities and their hometowns, Crabapple Cove, Maine and Toledo, Idaho respectively. As the weeks passed, he and Alexis grew closer and closer. Her parents had adored him and Alexis's elder brother, a Lieutenant in Starfleet on leave had bonded with him easily over their love of flying antique ultralights.

Their final stop was New Orleans on the last day of Mardi Gras.

Harry and the ladies were in their first bar of the evening for some jazz and drinks when Juno asked, "How come you're not tossing beads at the girls?" He had bought a fifty strands of them.

"I thought about it but realized I'd rather spend the evening with the two most beautiful women on this planet than throw beads at women. Of course, if you'd like to earn some beads," he said teasingly as he fingered the strands on his neck. Both women had been as flirtatious with him over the weeks as he had been with them.

"I'm sure I can earn a lot more than a single string of beads," Juno said, putting her hand on his thigh.

"I think we both can," Alexis said, unzipping her vest to show she had nothing on beneath.

Harry's voice croaked as he said, "Re-really?" He flushed brightly then shook his head. "Forget I said that," he started again, this time banishing his nervous feelings behind shields of metaphorical stone. "I think I could show you both pleasure without measure." He smiled, accidentally pushing magic into his personal akashic field, reinforcing the same smile he had given them when they first met. It once again promised THAT pleasure without measure. Both women elected to take him up on it.

* * *

The next morning the three awoke a few minutes after eight, all hung over from too much ojen to the sound of a shrill comm badge.

Alexis realized it was hers, kissed both of them goodbye and was teleported right out of the hotel room and to Starfleet Command after claiming 24 strands of beads for herself.

Juno put her cami over her eyes and softly said, "Any chance you're not too hung over to get breakfast?"

Harry chuckled and kissed the only visible portion of her body, the inside of her forearm.

He returned a few minutes later with beignets, spiced coffee, orange slices, a bottle of pomegranate juice, and a hangover curative the woman in the dining room called a sazerac. She had also given him two tooth cleansing pills.

Once her hangover was gone and the food consumed, Juno decided she needed another go with Harry to make sure she didn't forget him. Harry gave her the grin again before making sure she _never_ forgot him.

At two thirty, as they finished up a leisurely late lunch, Juno's comm badge shrilled and she was ordered to report to her CO for her new assignment.

Harry shook her hand and they promised to keep in contact, taking along 24 strings herself, leaving him two strings as souvenirs along with some intimate holograms of the three in action. Then Harry watched her go, dropping back into a chair.

_I can't believe that happened_, he mused to himself. He hadn't expected to ever meet someone he'd actually want to sleep with but here he was, fresh off a threesome like it was three centuries ago and his wives still lived: though back then the actual times that all three of them shared the same bed were his birthdays or very special occasions and the occasional nights Hermione indulged in a second glass of wine, otherwise both women preferred to have his full attention.

He shrugged it off. While he hoped to run into them both again, they were career Starfleet and he doubted he would.

His own comm badge trilled and a brief descending minor arpeggio informed him he had messages on his computer on the ship.

He used his comm badge to call for a shuttle—he was not going to risk using a transporter until he knew for sure it wouldn't affect his magic—to take him back to the dry dock in Tonga.

He tipped the pilot a slip of latinum—the lack of a standardized paper or metal currency was weird, especially since Earth wasn't as communist as Starfleet files made it sound—and saw his ship was nearly done. All that was left was refitting the baffle plates and having an engineering team verify flight-worthiness.

He thought about the economy of the Federation as he waited for a reply from Starfleet Engineering.

A typical adult received 1000 tokens a month and a child received 1300 until they were nine then it dropped to 1150 until they came of age with educational vouchers for various items that could be redeemed and not use up tokens.

Those tokens and vouchers could be used at commercial and industrial replicators or the tokens could be traded for fresh foods or used in restaurants because in-home replicators, while meeting nutritional needs, didn't produce the most appealing foods. But if one could save up 36,000 tokens they could purchase a better quality replicator. The vouchers were used at the better quality replicators or in stores to purchase items. Juno had mentioned how it would have taken 1800 tokens to purchase a replacement violin if she hadn't had an extra musical instrument voucher since her brother never used his having taken up the piano and they had one in the house already.

Harry shook it off. It was all too complicated for him and was glad that even with their 'moneyless' society, he could just use latinum to buy the things he needed. He was a little disappointed he hadn't been able to find a black market though. He wanted a phaser. Mostly to tinker with.

The message came in: an engineering team would have him certified by 1100 hours local time the next morning, arriving at 0830.

* * *

Morrissey shook Harry's hand. "She's good to go sir. I noticed you haven't named her yet?"

"I wasn't sure what this class was named after. I know you use a naming pattern for each class."

"The yachts are named after nautical allusions usually."

He thought about it a moment then realized the perfect one. "Is Alcyone taken?" His and Fleur's first daughter's name. Her twin brother had been Henri after her father and as Hal was short for Henry, the two had often been called Alcyone and Halcyon. It never was when the two got mischievous.

Morrissey checked his PADD, also verifying the tracker was working.

"Want me to place it in the registry?"

Harry nodded and a bottle of replicated Dom Perignon and five minutes later, the ship was christened, the name expertly applied with a beautiful typeface by the only ensign he hadn't gotten the name of: he said was called Sun Queen, a thicker variant of the Queen of the Moon typeface he used on the menu of his parents' restaurant. It was a magnificent gold holographic foil over the so-dark-of-purple-it-was-almost-black color he had had his ship painted along with the modified nacelles—red gels over the nacelles and blue gels over the bussard ramscoop to turn both a nearly matching purple that had a Galaxy class captain that was passing by asking if it would be possible to make his ship's nacelles green.

They left and Harry stepped aboard his ship. The walls were a soft dove blue-grey, covering the reflective coating to protect the ship's electronics from his magic. The computers were hardened by himself, using the same material but also using 438 crystals engraved with magic sapping runes, creating a skew polygon that was a magic free area around the navigation console as well as more around the replicator, the engines, other computers in the ship, life support, and the nacelles.

As soon as he touched the console, he felt a deadening in his fingers, a lot like the magic sapping power of a Dementor, he mused. Shaking off the memory of those things, he activated a dictaquill and an endless parchment scroll and began speaking.

"It's 16, February 2366," Harry said. "The stardate is," he paused, checking the computer. "43125.02. Which still makes no sense to me but whatever. Currently leaving Earth—again!—to travel to Sirius. At warp three, it's a two week journey. The engines are rated for faster but I want to have an expert break them in for me if I can't build my own warp capable ship using magic."

He cast a spell, turning the carpet from a utilitarian grey close knit to luxurious white shag Fleur had had done to all their homes. The spell burnt out the tracker before it could even begin its duties. Harry kicked off his boots and socks and dug his toes into the shag as he received permission to break orbit and enter the trade lanes heading out of system. "Had a threesome last night. It's been a _long_ time since I last had anything but my hand. Had to scramble to remember the numbing charm George taught me so I could last longer. Juno was better but I would date Eclipse exclusively because, well, redheads just aren't my thing, even if Hermione looked incredible as one." She had gone as Mary Jane Watson for halloween the year before their first children while Fleur had gone as slightly pregnant with their twins Felicia Hardy/Black Cat and Harry had been battle damaged Spider-Man. "Earth is so different than when we left. Mostly utopian but disturbing at the same time. It makes me wonder just what villains are in the background making sure this utopia can continue." Harry knew intimately that utopias couldn't exist in a vacuum. "Met a Ferengi, was reminded of a more genial goblin. And I didn't find a hint of magical creatures or other races but there're the more benign plants everywhere. Some muggle royal maintains a centuries old magical garden for tourists wanting to see rare plants. Stole some clippings to make some potions without disturbing my stock.

"I also got Hogwarts Valley and archaeological rights to a number of sites around Earth. The Goblins were supposed to have backfilled all their warrens but I suspect they didn't, not to mention that there's no way we found everything on the planet. Proof is this," he said, taking a stone carving he had found in a museum. He had gone to the bathroom and transfigured a copy from a bog roll then switched the two. Studying it, he could feel the magic simmering just below the surface. He was shocked that even with the runes mostly defaced, the enchanting work still functioned.

Harry placed it under a stasis bubble then went to get a mug of Earl Grey tea. Potter had gotten him reacquainted with Hermione's second favorite tea. "Not sure what the stone does but the magic on it is Merlinesque. Dumbledore's journals make me think it could be from Atlantis, perhaps a keystone?" The pieces that helped make the island fly. "Perhaps it flies on its own now though." They had brought it over on ship number seven. "Been dreaming of seeing people with Hermione's eyes, Fleur's hair and cheeks, Neville's pudgy face, Luna's demeanor. Even hoping to see a Malfoy, if only so I can pop them in the jaw." Feeling maudlin and a touch despondent, he stopped the dictaquill and tried to stop feeling without using occlumency.

~•~

He was six days into his trip when a barking hoot sound from the computer—he had used the vocalizations of various owls to signify certain things—alerted him to the fact that someone was hailing him using a Starfleet standard frequency.

"Ahoy, PRS—" Private Registry Starship "—Alcyone. This is the Federation Cutter Cutty Sark."

Harry rolled off his bunk and opened hailing frequencies. He saw the bridge of the Cutter, crewed by a handful of people, their captain a Commander, a grandmotherly looking woman with a dark red cardigan over her uniform.

"Hi. How ya doing? We noticed you were just sitting in space. Thought you might need assistance."

Harry shook his head. "Just finished replacing some isolinear chips and was taking a break before setting course." They hadn't been protected by a magic free ward. He had made a new one to protect them and had elected to rest afterwards.

She nodded. "Lovely paint job."

Harry thanked her and told them it was a favored color. His daughters had loved purple-black and it had rubbed off on him then he asked if they were looking for any trade items.

Fifty minutes later, Harry was back on his way, a crate of Chateau Picard wine, a pound of gouda, and some luxury salts traded to him for 18 pounds of rib eye steaks and his recipe for a sweet and smoky rub. Ostensibly he was worse off—real beef sold for three slips a pound and the crate was only worth 32 slips but he had tried the same vintage on the Enterprise during a dinner with the command staff and was a fan.

As the ship flew on, he headed down to his kitchen—the cargo area had been refit as a professional kitchen with a chef's table—and settled in to prepare himself an oaty baguette to pair with the cheese and wine.

* * *

Harry studied the scans of the Sirius system. The third planet had six colonies arrayed around a seventh abandoned colony, the hyperloop tubes between them and the abandoned colony making them look like a wagon wheel. The second planet, also in the habitable zone, was interdicted by Federation law due to atmospheric contamination and storms that caused issues with navigational arrays caused by a failed terraforming he learned, the fourth and fifth were gas giants, one with a habitable moon that had been a Federation testing ground for a few decades before the programs were cut. Now it was an unmanned listening post.

He received permission to land on Alpha III and soon found himself studying the area. Most footsteps in the area led to a stairwell into the underground but he saw faint footprints leading to a standing wall. A _brick_ wall. When every other half-destroyed wall was a prefab piece of ship that doubled as a shelter on a planet.

Harry closed his eyes and mentally cast '_Ceroculum!_'

Light exploded before him, gold, purple, green, blue, a highway of magical light leading from where he stood while freshly cast spells had left traces around him like the Weasley fireworks of old.

Harry opened his eyes as he canceled the spell and moved forward, wiping away dust where he saw a glint of gold. As the dust was removed, a small bronze plaque on the wall was revealed. It read **Platform 9 &amp; ¾**.

"Magic!" Harry squealed, utterly delighted.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry flicked his wand a few times, creating a privacy bubble around himself, slowly extending it outwards, watching with a supersensory charm for the intersections of foreign magic against his own.

He caught a few, light sensor charms. Quick flicks of his wand and their output was shifted to him. Alert charms, they let whatever was on the other side of the wall know magicals were on his side._ Nothing to worry about._

The rest were privacy and anti-muggle charms. _No jinxes or hexes_, he thought then collapsed his bubble and tapped the wall's three discolored bricks.

The bricks began to fold in upon themselves, slowly revealing a fire of purple flames. He could smell floo powder. Above the flames was a brass plaque: speak friend and step through.

Harry rolled his eyes at the plaque and cast new detection charms, studying the way the magic Intersected. It was a floo. But different. Green was short distance. Blue was intercontinental. _Purple must be interplanetary_, he decide as he watched his detection charm flicker then fly upwards at an angle. If he was right, it was heading towards another planet in the system, their original goal, or even out of system, their secondary plan.

His mind flickered to a number of compulsions he had placed on Starfleet and Federation personnel, to find six more planets capable of human colonization with minimal terraforming and to then mark them as his property. It was more than a little wrong but he wanted to make sure his people were spread out enough in the galaxy now that he knew they still existed.

Harry spoke "Friend" and stepped into the flames.

He gasped and a mouthful of ashes filled his maw as he was spun through a corridor of gold and purple, feeling as if he were standing still, walking backwards, running, and being spun about in some sort of amusement park ride designed to express riders' vomit as quickly as possible.

And then he was through, flung roughly upon cushioned ground.

A nearby girl, no older than six with cherubic looks and golden hair and a honey like complexion, giggled at his entrance. She waved at him then skipped off as a woman called "Amberellia!"

A witch in gold robes with elaborate purple scrollwork stepped over and helped him up. "Hello, wizard," she said, smiling. "Please present your wand to the Scales of Harmony."

"Uhh, pretend I got smacked on the head quite hard," he said, looking around. "And fill me in on things."

"Obliviation?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Concussion," he lied.

"Ah, you should go to St. Mungos then. The express floo to it is right there," she pointed over his right shoulder and he turned to see more floos, each with a plaque above it to various villages or businesses. Hogsmeade, St. Mungo's, Platform 9&amp;¾, Paris, and so many more. He started to count then rolled his eyes. Three rows of eleven minus the purple meant 32 destinations with a booth where a witch was selling portkeys and another booth where house-elves were for hire to transport yourself and your shopping home if it was too much.

"Wizard?" the gold-clad witch said.

"Hmm, oh, yes. Sorry, got distracted."

"Your wand?" she asked, this time worried he was a muggle. She hated obliviating people and getting them back to the proper colony offworld.

He held up his Holly wand and flicked it, making a rose appear then flash into flames, creating a phoenix before disappating with a beautiful cry. His passive legilimency had caught the flicker of _muggle? _On her mind when he looked at her.

"What does the device do?" he asked.

"It only verifies that your wand is yours, hasn't been used in a crime, and for youngsters who've just received their first wand, places a WandPay band upon it, as well as starting the process of their first account at Goldfinger's. Each village has one near their floo and Safe Apparition Points."

Harry nodded, presuming that Goldfinger was a goblin name and the new bank as well as a Bond villain–he had had little to do with the Goblin negotiations. WandPay had been his idea, based on the old muggle service for paying with a phone just by passing it over another device. It was nice to see it had been finally created.

Some people were wearing robes, others were wearing more muggle oriented items. There were goblins running errands, centaurs looking as if they were teaching some youngsters, dwarves and house-elves sitting around hookahs smoking, seeming to be having smoke ring contests. He smiled as he approached the Scales of Harmony, a flicker of pain/relief/arousal running through him when he saw it was a large dragon scale held in the hands of a very sensually carved marble statue. Of his wife. Draped in just a toga barely covering her arse and other bits and showing that someone knew too much about his wife's nipples. Then he remembered polyjuice. And his wife had been alone after he had gone. She would have had needs. He pushed the anger away.

He closed his eyes, pondering which wand to use. His own was for the best but his other two–the Death Stick and his own crafted wand of Amber cored Conifer–then decided his own was for the best, the Conifer wand was flighty at most times, often failing at simple spells but excelling at great magicks.

Harry slipped his wand from his sleeve, flicking it into a dainty little movement that initiated a self-polish charm, then placed it upon the scale.

The eyes of the statue flared to life and its mouth opened. "I solemnly swear–"

Harry hesitated, unsure of which one it required then decided it was likely Hermione's special version and he sighed. "–I am Hermione's little love snuffle."

The witch who had helped him had slipped her own wand from her belt at whatever was happening while her eyes went wide at his statement.

"Welcome home, my husband. We never stopped trying to find you but the ships couldn't make another trip."

Harry nodded. "Interactive?"

"Only for this. There're paintings of us hidden away, spelled to only awaken when you stand before them. We hoped to set a society in place that you wouldn't have to tear down. My private library awaits." And hidden where they had hoped to build their home, he presumed.

"Who are you?" the witch's partner asked, finally moving close enough to see through the glamour Harry had placed on himself. The scar, the eyes, the pale skin, the messy black hair hidden underneath a glamour showing him as a coffee skinned bald man, mildly reminiscent of an old Minister, the wizard remembered.

Harry turned and smiled, his glamour dropping, revealing himself in a Starfleet off duty uniform. "I am Harry Potter."

Witches and Wizards had moved forward, those who had been shopping nearby had been surprised to see the statue do something beyond print out a slip or its other duties.

There were gasps. Of shock. Of fright. Of delight. Wizards and Witches apparated away, off to retrieve others or pass on the news as others began pressing forward.

"You really are Harry Potter?" a small girl asked. Harry guessed she was to begin school within the year, her mother letting go of her shoulder as she stared at Harry in shock.

"I am," he said, kneeling down, noticing the Black eyes in the girl. "What's your name?"

"Amarillo del Black Castillo-On-the-Point," she piped proudly. "You're my," she started counting on her fingers, "great-great-great-great-great-great-great-uncle and my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandpa!" she said happily. Then looked a little sad. "I think. I'm really bad at remembering family history!" She looked to her mother who nodded and the girl smiled happily.

Harry hoped the uncle/grandpa thing was separated by a large number of generations and that the Purebloods weren't in charge. He wasn't in the mood to obliterate a planetary population down to colonizing size.

The girl hugged him around the waist as witches and wizards–predominantly witches he was happy/surprised to see–appeared wearing wizengamot robes, the wizards in orange and black and the majority of the witches in random mixed robes it looked like. He thought it was about fifty or so.

Then they did something that half-enraged Harry. They bowed. The one in the front spoke. "May it please your Majesty, we are your royal hereditary wizengamot. Your Majesty's elected wizengamot meets in closed session at the moment or they would be here as well."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry sat on chair he had transfigured from a pebble, trying not to look appreciatively at the throne: his throne.

It was gorgeous though, and kept drawing his eyes back to it. Hand carved from lava rock shaped like a phoenix taking flight, the flames sweeping off the body of the phoenix and making up the lower back of the throne was filled with various animals reminding him of fiendfyre. it glistened purply-black as well as having crystal and gold veins running throughout, making the various designs look even more eye catching while the arm rests had a pair of head sized gems cut into globe shapes with the left being earth, a giant sapphire with green, gold, blue and clear diamonds to represent the continents while the right was a massive green emerald with more white and blue diamonds inset to show what the planet looked like at colonization.

He resisted an urge to ask how lava rock had precious-metal and -stone veins as he surveyed the people coming into the room. Both sets of the Wizengamot were filling seats and he saw that it was predominantly males in the elected but the hereditary evened it back to fifty-fifty.

A binder of documents, many in Hermione's copper plate, sat in front of him and he read. A representative wizengamot for passing bills, a hereditary one lead—though requisite classes meant those who refused the necessary education had to nominate a qualified stand-in—by seven citizen-elected officials for the courts and the appointed chief warlock of those elected seven, a constitutional monarchy—his firstborn direct descendant [Princess Cirillia of Wales] sat upon the throne for special events when it didn't interfere with primary school; so much more to read. He shrunk it all and made it disappear into a hammer space bubble he kept his property in after having mastered the spell fifty years before. Because they were parasitic they didn't break down like a transfiguration eventually would.

"Look, i'm not planning on staying here long. I've got things to do offworld and while meeting my descendants will be interesting—"

He held up his hand when they started to speak. "I'll do some meet and greets, maybe tour Hogwarts and any other schools but I have plans for off this world. And, uuuh, how much money do I have access to?"

"Section 11 in the second folder," a relatively cronish witch said, somewhat reminiscent of one of the more veela than human in-laws he had had save this witch had disturbingly carroty hair that clashed with her olive 'skin.' The hair had a strange feather texture that wasn't actually feathers.

He pulled it back out and looked at it. He personally held 7% of their planet's wealth, the mineral rights of 51% the world, controlling interest in the largest corporation, and the Potter Corporation controlled numerous organizations throughout the federation, run by the muggle family of witches and wizards. "Huh. And how many witches and wizards leave the planet?"

"Riza is a very popular resort but with our magic we can create our own resorts, including a gorgeous one run by veelas on the equator where all the water is," a wizard said, smiling a little creepily to Harry's mind. A flash of the wizard being serviced by a nayad floated through Harry's mind and he pulled his mental shields tighter. Accidental legilemency was becoming a problem.

"About six percent of muggleborns leave the planet and most of those do so to act as planetary observers to search for the magic of new worlds while the rest are scouts for new magical children. When we find magic capable worlds, we begin a mission. Each world has their own magic: even this world required significant changes of mindset. An example: instead of a zed to の shape—" harry raised an eyebrow at the nn sound she made "—in the shaving spell, we have to use a reverse-zed to a ろ." He realized she was using japanese with that. "I'm a magical historian," the witch supplied. "I study the differences to see if there's a way to foresee new ways to change castings."

Harry nodded. "What about the ones who just leave?"

"Wanderlust or exile. We've exiled only two in the past two centuries, both post mind-changes. A resectioning of the mind to erase their crimes and their knowledge of magic. The two were serial rapists," another wizard said. Mind-rape was considered a punishment greater than death. "Wanderlust magicals receive a stipend as long as they send back regular reports."

Harry nodded. "What about the scrolls that find students on earth?"

"The Ministry of Education maintains them all and as new worlds are colonized, we create new scrolls for that world. Though only one instead of the nine for Earth." They didn't have multiple schools to choose between as Earth once did, instead they sent the children by lottery to the various schools when they arrived on September 1st though all the best academically inclined went to Hogwarts while those who were Half-human went to Beauxbaton for a historical reason Harry didn't understand.

Harry nodded.

Tired of it all, Harry stood and stretched then idly flicked his wand, turning the chair into a La-Z-Boy recliner before sitting back down.

"What about our own exploring of the galaxy? Searching for new worlds ourself?" He asked, thinking about the ship he'd been designing.

"The conservative elements think it a pointless endeavour," a witch said to annoyed looks and an actual hiss from another.

"We should be spread out," Harry said, deciding not to mention the Federation concessions towards himself. They might be more useful as stock worlds than colony sites. "One world is not enough."

There were thoughtful nods. The conversation had happened before, especially as more wizards and witches came in post the Federation's establishment. "But it's not a decision that need be made now, " Harry finished. "Now, I have some things to see and family to meet." The Potter Foundation tracked all members and there was a dinner for all Potters available to attend that evening and a brunch the next day for the rest that couldn't attend before he visited the schools over the next few days.

Leaving the room, he didn't notice the spellcasting experts move to examine his chair, intrigued to see what he could do.

~•~

Harry hated letting someone direct the apparation but was forced to do so.

The current head of the Potter Foundation, his great-grand-niece, let go of his arm and held out her arm, gesticulating towards a gothic castle. Harry grimaced as she said, "Umm, grandma Hermione was rather angry at your loss and decided to take it out on you so your home is in the Gothic style, sir."

"If you called Hermione grandma then you should call me grandpa," he said, feeling incredibly ridiculous. He perpetually looked seventeen unless he glamoured up or used a runic array etched onto a thread and wove into his hair. She was nearer two hundred than one hundred.

She blushed but nodded.

Inside, a small vestibule was stocked with pamphlets and clear rectangular slabs. "Information about the house and a walking audio tour is on the MADD. The library is this way, the top floor."

They took a rotating stairwell much like the Headmaster's one at Hogwarts up to the library.

Inside, three paintings came to life, one of himself with paintings of Hermione and Fleur flanking his.

"Took you long enough," Fleur's voice said and Harry was instantly erect at her accent and teasing inflection while Hermione's painting smirked. The painting of Harry, painted to look like his grandfather's painting had and aging slowly, sighed. "I _am_ Dorian Gray." Harry couldn't help but laugh at that.

* * *

Picard walked into the ready room and his command staff settled into their seats.

"Tactical?"

Worf went over the issues that were being handled in the weapons control systems. "The neural gel packs have been replaced and the colony of bruxtabian mold moles have been relocated back to the lab they escaped from."

There was a snicker and Picard raised an eyebrow, looking at his wife whose composure was gone and now giggling.

"Sorry, sorry. Nurse Ogawa told me a joke about Risan Moles just before I left."

Picard rolled his eyes. Male Risan Moles were a common joke creature because they were born as large phalluses with a rudimentary life support system. They were often used in misandric jokes.

He glared his wife into submission—ignoring Deanna's significant look to Beverly intimating she wanted to hear the joke later—then moved onto the next section, engineering.

Finally he got to medical—her punishment for disrupting the meeting was to go last—and got her report then he tapped at his PADD. "A message came in from Command. Harry X successfully signed a very impressive contract with some major concessions. I've forwarded the contract to the central command staff databank for those who wish to peruse but you're right Riker. They bent over backwards for that much dilithium so readily accessible. Sixty percent of mined goes to Starfleet and twenty-five percent goes to the Federation while nine percent is to be sold on the open market with the remaining to Harry."

Even Worf looked impressed. They had lugged out enough to power the fleet for three decades three times over and that had been readily accessible to the surface.

"Aside from that, he got a warp capable captain's yacht and a hull and keel from a decommissioned Pasteur class and left Earth two months ago to seek out his people's colony world." The Pasteur class was a medical ship designed to be the greatest medical hospital anywhere. Since the ships were for dealing with colony issues and alien species, they acted as mobile diplomatic stations.

* * *

Harry finished weaving the glamour thread into a short braid and fixed his combat robes then followed his great-to-too-many-times-to-remember niece—Becky, he remembered finally—out of the girl's office at the Ministry and down the hall.

"This entrance hall was made from stone brought from a quarry in Australia—they won the pool I'm sure you remember?" Harry nodded. As they prepared to leave earth, they had decided that all public buildings would have at least a hearthstone from Earth but all schools would be brought over and reassembled while all public buildings would have stone brought from home. Homes would be assembled from stone from the planet. "But the rest of the halls are all made from stone sourced on planet. They decided to clad buildings and save all Earth stone to be used for hearthstones about three decades after landing."

She continued babbling about the architecture and the influences of Frank Lloyd Wright III and gothic norman architecture but Harry wasn't really paying attention. His mind was on the statue in the entrance, a representative of all sentient magical species battling what looked like a mutated dragon.

~•~

The wizengamot was no longer a circle of people looking down on supplicants or defendants. Now it was a diamond shaped set of seats with the high warlock and six judges at the apex and the elected and hereditary members facing each other across an open floor of exquisite parquet work exulting their new world with the low point of the diamond open. But behind the seven was an empty throne. "Your throne," Becky whispered. "You've got seven in total. All the same shape but the carvings are different on each one. This one has wizards dueling in the flames.

"My favorite is the one at Hogwarts. It's got unicorns and dragons on it!"

"How often do they meet?"

"Every day of the week for two months then Monday through Potterday for seven months then they break for the summer." Harry grimaced at Potterday. They had made the week eight days long to compensate for the fact that the planet's orbit/year was 50.74 days longer than Earth's orbit. So now the end of the work week—or the beginning of the three day weekend because schooling was only five days a week—was Potterday.

* * *

Every child and all the staff stood on the lawn, watching the seven people approach.

As they got closer, Headmaster Allesandor Carrow recognized two Ministry Unspeakables, one of each Wizengamot, the head of the Potter Foundation, Lady Scot—the official historian of Hogwarts, and Emperor Potter himself.

~•~

Danica Collins, a third year Ravenclaw who could trace her lineage back to twelfth century France, watched the Emperor, her direct ancestor, approach the group and then they could hear what he was saying. "—it's not intent so much as desire. But it may be different for me. Or because of this planet. The akashic field here is bluer than I expected."

She wondered what that meant. Before she could ask her half-brother, a seventh year Slytherin, if he knew, the deputy headmaster told everyone to straighten up.

~•~

"Really? Bluer?" Lady Scot asked. "The sun is at a different life cycle. It's about fifteen million years younger than the Earth's. Perhaps that's it?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "It's possible. I have the federation searching for more habitable planets with the wavelength of octarine in the star." Though federation scientists didn't call it that, instead they called it orthogonal radiation. "It could then be tested. I do find it rather disappointing you're on one planet. I had hoped to find a more explorative bent."

A number of students felt a bit of shame at hearing that.

~•~

Harry nodded at the children as the headmaster shook his hand then introduced the head boy and girl. "And this is Anderson Coop and Stace Reemer."

The children were sent off to their classes while the headmaster and the other adults were led on an extensive tour of this version of Hogwarts.

All the schools on the planet were the same now, Z-shaped castles like Hogwarts—except the new Beauxbatons which was a large H-shaped chateau surrounded by vineyards—but the floor plans of each were wildly different. Hogwarts seemed to be just the same as it had always been, though not completely surprising as they had disassembled it and brought it with them save the cladding which had been destroyed in the process. They had flown over the quarry the new cladding had come from, a opalesque marble with swirls of rainbow up close.

"What about the secret passages?"

"We find new ones all the time," the headmaster admitted. "The heartstone of the school kind of giggles whenever we close a new one. I've just been documenting them the past decade then closing them in July. New ones usually form about December."

~•~

Harry smiled. "I never thought I'd walk these halls again," he breathed, only loud enough that Reemer with her magical hearing aid was able to hear it.

She had so many questions she wanted to ask and finally blurted out the most important to her. "Are you going to retake your throne‽"

"No one needs a king or an emperor," Harry told her, "as long as they have a competent representative government. And I have plans. To build a fleet of magical ships. Humanity and its allies and enemies have only explored about fifteen percent of this quarter of the galaxy we live in. I spent 300 years trapped on a rock. I can't stay on another too long. But i'll be back often," he said at her crushed expression. "Besides, Haven't you ever thought about joining Starfleet?"

She nodded. "How'd you know?"

"You recognized my commbadge." He had received it from Commander Riker. It was a custom model, utilizing the warp-delta shape the Enterprise alone used but without a statorfleet crystal in it. The lack of crystal caused no issue since it was just for encryption and operating starfleet equipment. They had added a lythor crystal—the civilian equivalent—to it when he had received the yacht so he could control it via his commbadge.

"What kind of masteries will students need?" Carrow asked.

"No clue. It'll have to be a wholly new program," Harry said excitedly. "A mixture of martial, sciences, and magicks education."

~•~

As they walked, Carrow giving a tour to a man who still knew the unchanged halls intimately, Harry mused on his plans. It was going to take a lot of information. He made mental notes. He needed former Starfleet personnel that knew of magic that were capable of teaching, dry-dock space, land, resources, weaponry, alloys—he sighed. I'm going to have to talk to the goblins, he thought. They hate me!

Goblins never dropped a grudge.

~•~

Harry flipped closed his notebook and stopped. Children were speaking just around the corner.

"Harry potter counted to infinity - twice."

There was laugher then another voice. "Death once had a near-Harry Potter experience."

A girl's voice softly said, "Harry potter once got bit by a nundu... After three days of pain and agony — the nundu died."

More laughter.

"In 1993, Santa Claus put Harry Potter on the naughty list. Parents started buying children presents themselves in 1994." Harry chuckled to himself at that.

"We live in an expanding universe. All of it is trying to get away from Harry Potter."

"Outer space exists because it's afraid to be on the same planet with Harry Potter."

"That's basically the same as mine," the girl's voice complained.

Harry slipped away. He remembered Chuck Norris Jokes from his own childhood. Hearing them about himself was fantastic.

~•~

He put down the books. There were currently eleven former Starfleet personnel on the colonies, all the grandparents of current students. Another four muggles were civilian instructors formerly employed by Starfleet and three retired merchant marines, sadly, the majority were all engineering. While that was actually a good thing, Harry knew he also needed more instructors to train them to a martial standard that could potentially go to war.

He sighed and tapped his comm badge. "Report station keeping."

"Currently stationkeeping five hundred meters outside the magnetosphere, within five hundred meters of the geosynchronous point of signal." His comm badge. He gave it the order to land in the backyard of the castle. He had had to program it to ignore the visual sensors and set down blind.

He put away the Starfleet manuals and looked at the Magecraft materials.

* * *

Harry settled onto the divan Fleur had brought from Earth and decorated a room around, sighing as he studied the books outlining current magicks education. Hermione had been the architect of the current mastery system utilizing an extended education system for the apprentice sequence of three to seven years then five to eleven years with a master as a journeyman before a sequence of time as a traveling-journeyman before mastery testing. Most people received their masteries after their thirtieth birthday but prodigies could have theirs within five years of finishing schooling.

Harry decided to look into his own Masteries compared to the current levels as he read the early education portion. Children went to small schools in each village to teach them to the federation standard for secondary school graduates until they were ten then for their eleventh birthdays they got their magickal school letters.

He looked at the area for the education of squibs. Those without magic continued in a separate schooling line, learning to Federation standards while receiving a 'wand' capable of emulating certain spells activated via voice command. The education track was designed to educate them towards being infiltrators of the Federation and as support personnel for the witches and wizards who had to introduce muggleborns to magic, staffing unofficial 'consulates' on the worlds of the Federation that had muggleborns. He realized those must have been the missions they discussed.

Bored, he set it aside and looked at his wives' paintings, both snoozing.

* * *

Cirillia ducked her mother and dashed towards their floo, giggling as her mother called her name.

The girl arrived in the welcoming foyer of the castle and the waiting house-elf bowed until its nose touched the ground. "Welcome back, princess." She gestured for him to stand. "The Emperor is in the library."

Her eyes went wide. She had seen him when he toured the school she went to and had half-hidden behind her mother and father when they had met at a huge family dinner the last Potterday but he was here, now.

Then she realized she was trespassing. The castle was now no longer a place where she could play Princess and dance around in pretty dresses, wearing her tiara, waving her sceptre, and practice etiquette with the house-elves.

Then he walked past, a scroll floating in front of him, a book in his hands, long robes trailing along the floor as he muttered something she thought sounded like "tore pee doughs are viable after all."

"Master," the house-elf said. "Your youngest descendant is here."

~•~

Harry froze, turning, blinking then looked down in nervousness and breathed a sigh of relief. He had trousers on at least. "Cirillia? What are you doing here?"

"Ummm, once I was crowned, mummy forgot the address. Only the sitting royal knows.

"So I come here to play until she sends Banana after me."

She was surprised to see him laugh and was even more surprised how normal it sounded. "Aye, I'd likely do the same. Well, she knows you're here?"

Cirillia nodded, still very nervous, afraid she'd wet herself. He was the Immortal Emperor. Grampy said Harry Potter had met Death and tore her magic from her with his bare hands then only granted her enough back to take others.

"Well, walk with me. The house-elves and Hermione and Fleur's paintings keep pointing out I need to interact with people."

She nodded, following him at a slight jog.

"I had thought I'd only stay here a few weeks then head back to space, back to Earth, to find what we left behind. Before I came here, I found a keystone from Atlantis. You know what Atlantis was, right?"

"Umm, a floating island?"

"That's what the history books say but I studied the stone it was made from. It wasn't terrestrial."

He looked at her to see what that meant to her and saw only confusion. He smiled. "Terrestrial means of Earth. Or of a planet. But for now, Earth. The stone used wasn't. And it wasn't from any planet orbiting Sol. Earth's sun. It could have been from an asteroid but keystones are cut from the same stone. And this is way too advanced. Okay."

He took his wand from his sleeve and began casting an illusion. A foot tall person was cutting a massive fifty by ten by eleven thousand foot block of stone into hundreds of small heptagons then began carving runes onto them. "Those are keystones. They have to come from the same rock so they'll all work together properly." This demonstration was dumbed down since all the stones had to be engraved and activated at the same time. The best way to do that was from one massive stone that splintered apart upon activation.

She nodded.

"So if a stone that size hit earth at the time that rock is aged to, humanity wouldn't exist."

She looked confused and he patted her head. "It's a difficult concept. When you're older perhaps esoteric history will be more interesting."

She bristled at the dismissal but didn't say anything. He was the Imperial One.

"Do you like tin roof sundae ice cream?"

She blinked. "Umm, never heard of it?"

In the kitchens, they soon sat at a large prep table, sharing a large tin roof sundae sundae.


	4. Chapter 4

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping, into the future

* * *

Harry studied the new castle design, exactly to his specifications. Hundreds of classrooms, dozens of lecture halls, libraries, engram implantation centres, holodecks, landing bays, weapons training centres, and a docking station all built into a massive spiraling castle to be grown from a single seed amber diamond, reaching two miles into the air from the lowest valley on the planet, a valley surrounded by 30,000 meter alps: everything a student would need to enter Starfleet. Except the staff.

He turned to the design team. "Build it. Now I have to staff it."

"How?"

"Muggles, obviously. There are currently ninety students that have muggle parents in Starfleet. We have another forty Starfleet muggles who are in the know because of muggleborns. So, we start there. I already sent requests to Starfleet Command for their CVs."

"Their what?"

"Curriculum Vitae?"

"Oh, their Educational Intent!" a witch said.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need to hire a personal assistant. The language has evolved way too much. and your accents are so Welsh I can barely understand most people. That red-haired asian witch, she spoke with a normal accent, where's she from?"

"The southern continent. It's where most Asian magicals decided to emigrate."

"So asians now speak English with a Received Pronunciation accent whereas most Caucasians speak with thick Welsh or even thicker Glasgow accents? This world has gone mad."

Two people laughed and Harry asked, "Historians?"

They nodded and Harry chuckled himself.

He strode out, followed by his retinue. Four aurors and two gophers to deal with everything he needed.

Harry came to a stop outside the building and watched a dragon flying over. All settlements had anti-dragon charms and all dragons had implanted stones, charmed to keep them away from humans outside their settlements.

"Sire, your next appointment?"

"Right, yes, my artificers?"

The witch nodded.

"Gramps!"

He turned and saw Cirillia running towards him. She hugged him and he patted the top of her head. "Hello little one. Are you alone?" A year plus of her visiting him had turned her from fearful of him to seeing him as the coolest, most powerful person ever.

"Daddy's over there," she said pointing and Harry turned to look at the man. He nodded at him then said, "I have to work so you should run along, okay?"

She nodded and jogged off to rejoin her dad and little brother.

Harry apparated and appeared in a room of pure white without any doors or apparent lights. The wall in front of him dissolved and a dragon's eye on the end of an arm extended and looked him over. "Confirmed. Welcome back, your Majesty."

The walls fully dissolved as various weapons slid back into their alcoves and his artificers were revealed, looking back at him. They all stood in a large glass office, above a massive bay that was a nearly one hundred thirty cubic mile void. Large enough to hold Harry's yacht and the Pasteur class keel and have them not even be noticeable in the dim expanse while the goblins, house-elves, and dwarves who were part of the shipwright team were less than ants from the office.

"We've done some preliminary sketches, Harry," the only muggle—a shipwright who had retired to be near his daughters who were both witches—said as they shook hands, "and from what the team says, your idea is viable."

Harry smiled. "Show me, Hank."

Instead of paper, a holographic display sprang to life, showing Harry's original sketched ship designs expanded upon and drawn so much better than he thought possible.

* * *

_Sixteen months so far_, Harry thought.

He hadn't expected to spend so long here, to create any sorts of ties. But he had friends again, even if they weren't as close as Ron, Hermione, Fleur, or Jammer.

He chuckled, thinking about Jammer. An ascetic who had lived near their village, he and Harry often had a drink or two together—ale for Harry, water for Jammer—and discussed combats magic. Jammer had been a contemporary of Moody before leaving the Ministry and creating a sort of religious movement that had been slowly growing. They eschewed all creature comforts and only used magic to help others, running a growing sanctuary for magical creatures, sentient or not. And very knowledgeable about the filthiest of jokes, some so esoteric, even Seamus needed them explained when he joined them.

He shook that off and studied the dossiers he had received. It had taken three months and a number of imperius and confounding charms by himself on a trip back to Earth to get all the information—by convincing an admiral and her staff that she wanted to investigate the officers herself for missing promotions, as well as another thousand who were also due review—then having to pay a rather large fine for using those spells on muggles in a non-statute function.

Harry had left the admiral with a compulsion to replicate them as physical documents then she 'lost' them in a restaurant on the moon where Harry retrieved them. He had thought about just asking for them but decided not having a trail back to him would be best for now.

He took a long pull of his hard butterbeer and sighed. He had missed the drink, sometimes more than his wives.

Another name to the list. So far, he had eight potential teachers and only needed another fifteen to cover all the positions necessary. So far.

He looked at the mirrors in his office and saw his muggleborn—all Starfleet personnel's children—staff, digesting the current Starfleet operating manuals and writing up what magic could replicate or do better and what would need to be done technologically or could done via technomancy, a still untapped field for many reasons. From their work, the new textbooks for their own starships would be created.

His door opened and his assistant came in, a half-veela, quarter human, quarter Deltan. Harry nodded at her, ignoring her hitched breath, dilating eyes, and her body's inherent magic trying to attract him due to her sexual arousal. Annoyingly, she was the best person for the job but her two overly sexual natures melded together were making her the worst choice for the job. So most of the time she was in a separate room. Hiring her had been a happy accident. Her aura had overwhelmed him in a weak moment due to three days awake but she had turned out to be incredible at the job.

She set his tea on the desk, breathing in so her cleavage was even more evident. "Anything else?" she asked him breathily.

"Call Nevyn and Myrdin, let them know I'll be a bit late for the game."

She nodded and left the room.

Harry looked up, admiring the way her backside swayed as she walked effortlessly on six inch stilettos without a platform on the ball of the foot. She was essentially en pointe all day. Fleur had had a number of shoes like that, he remembered_. I wonder why fashion is so cyclical_, he mused as he looked out the window.

~•~

Myrdin rolled the fist sized ebony ball along the closely cropped lawn, biting his lip as it began to slow, then turned and grinned at Nevyn as the ball just touched the white pin. "Try to beat that!"

Nevyn scowled. Myrdin's ball now blocked his from hitting the pin dead-on, leaving them deadlocked. Hitting Myrdin's ball first would make him lose two points even with a knocked over ivory pin.

Then he noticed his other two balls were sitting at fairly good positions for potential banking shots.

He brought his arm back then let the ivory ball—made of actual dragon ivory—go, and watched as the forward spin he let it go with picked up speed from the magic in the lawn. The ball ricocheted off one then the other then slammed the pin toward the two, sending the ebony ball to hit the remaining black pin, stealing a point, letting Nevyn win. "Hah!"

~•~

Harry apparated onto the receiving lawn of the Potter Bowling and Card Club, scowling at the little royal crown above the name Potter. It had showed up the day he had accepted a membership. "I love you Hermione but Merlin damn you," he muttered.

He found the two at the bar, watching the bartender create a layered drink the muggle way. Harry watched, impressed. It was a difficult skill to properly layer drinks and not have them mix, like this witch was succeeding at.

The witch set the drink in front of Nevyn and she stuck a straw in then blew into it. Flames of gold and blue erupted off the drink as Nevyn pulled her head back. "My hair okay?"

Myrdin and the bartender nodded as the drink went out. The six layers of red hued liquors had changed to blue and she picked up the glass, turning to smile at Harry.

"Hey, Sire."

Harry couldn't escape the title but at least these two didn't kowtow. "Nevyn, Myrdin, you haven't started the game?"

"Everyone else is late too."

"Then a Seven and Seven and some crisps."

Nevyn gave Harry a brief hug hello then Myrdin patted him on the back as he asked, "How's the new school going?"

"The castle design is done, just scouting the teaching staff at the moment. I know we're going to have to hire muggles who don't know about magic. The students' parents aren't all qualified to teach."

"You can tell anyone you want, though."

"I still have to vet them before hiring them. You two want to see Earth?"

"I was stationed there for a decade," Nevyn said.

"And I've got my first grandkid about to arrive," Myrdin replied.

Harry nodded. He hadn't really wanted to bring them but he thought they might be useful to have around. And having a few people near his age was nice. Or close enough. People that were the age he looked were still in school. People that were his actual age were all dead save one in a million of the population and of those, nine of ten were afflicted with memory issues. But these two were just past their first centennial and had dealt with enough that Harry being Harry didn't really bother them. And he knew how to make some fantastic cocktails.

"Wait, first grandkid? Now?"

"I didn't have a kid until i was fifty and then he didn't have a kid until, well, next week."

"Huh, happen to know the average age of reproduction?"

"Twenty-six," the bartender said. "And the average family has two point one children, sire. Family planning laws from the beginning of the colonization really influenced the culture."

Harry nodded. "So they actually passed that law?"

"Not a law. A stipend. Taxes were higher if you had none or one. No taxes if you had two, Stipends for a third and fourth," Myrdin replied.

"Still a law," Harry replied. "But not as bad as I feared. No pureblood laws for procreation?"

"A fine for pureblood marriages, actually," Nevyn replied. "Not big for most purebloods but enough. And closeness of relation laws."

The rest of the players arrived and Harry nodded then led the way into the card room set aside only for his use. This was one perk he really didn't mind since the other rooms all smelled of hundreds of years of various tobaccos. His room only smelled of one cigar blend.

One of which was waiting at his spot with a platinum-titanium alloy cutter and a specially bred near-sulphurless dragonette waiting to light his cigar.

It flew to his shoulder and snuggled against him after recognizing his scent and got a bit of high quality lump charcoal as a treat.

The dealer came in and settled in, manipulating the cards as stewards began bringing in the buffet.

One crafted Harry's favorite sandwich for him as the dealer began sliding cards across the table. Harry tossed in the small blind and looked at his cards.

~•~

Hours of Camelot Hold'Em had gone by and Harry was up six thousand fluyts—inflation had driven the largest coin to the patache then the fluyt—and smiling. He knew he wasn't winning because he was Emperor: the charms on the room caused all within to play to their best. He was winning because they were rather bad at hiding their emotions and they all had tells.

Finally, most were ready to call it a night and one of Harry's assistants stacked the money and left to take it to drop in the St Mungo's box out front.

"SIre?"

He turned to see one of the younger assistants holding a textbook—she was studying for her Mastery in Combinative Magicks—and looked pensive.

"This books mentions a skill you developed but it has nothing else on it."

"Shatterpoints?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Ever see a window with a crack in it?"

"Yes."

"That crack is a shatterpoint. Hit it there, even lightly, the window shatters. The Shatterpoint skill is a way to see that in everything. It's a dangerous skill. Because you can see the shatterpoints in a relationship as easily as you see it in a wand. What if you see the woman who will shatter your relationship with your husband? So you kill her. Only that's what shatters the relationship because she's his family. Or you don't kill her and she seduces your husband away from you because you took no action?"

She went a little pale, imagining how the skill could be used.

"Di-did you ever use the skill?"

"Yes. One must develop a skill to master it. But we were at war so I was using it there for the most part. I didn't truly master it until I was on the planet though."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry set the autopilot to follow the beacons set for commercial traffic and headed back to his quarters to settle back. He opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass then turned and told the computer to play his Deep Punk playlist. The computer projected the music as if he was standing in the middle of the Ramones as they played Teenage Lobotomy at CBGB.

His enjoyment of the wine, a fragrant brie, and some chocolate bread was destroyed by the red alert going off.

The wine hit the carpet as he left his small quarters and found his pilot—the older sister of a muggleborn—who had medically retired from Starfleet after unrepairable trauma(though magic had handily dealt with the traumas and she was now 100%) grabbing the stick and saying "Shields to full, Allie."

The ship's reply was rather acerbic. "No, I thought we would want them all the way down to one percent for this."

Harry snickered and Lieutenant Landor said, "Why did you want a synthetic intelligence driving the computers?"

"Because it could be set to be snarky and no one else around me will be snarky because they think I'll get angry at them. The woes of being an incredibly rich, obscenely powerful monarch."

"Yes, much woes, such pain," she replied. "I wonder how all this jetsam ended up in the shipping lanes? There's no report of pirate activity and no wreckage."

"Dunno, what's the protocol?" he asked.

"Log it and destroy it," Landor said. "Finishing up the scans. There's some dangerous stuff out there. Binary explosives but separate. Want any of it?"

"Scans finished," Allie said.

He studied the list of stuff then waved his hand at Landor to do the deed and she began firing on the jetsam with underpowered phaser shots while he waved his hand again to summon his wine and the glass. He poured a new one and settled in the copilot's seat.

"Ever go to the Tactical Taqueria near the Academy?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Their tacos are incredible! First time I ever had real meat."

Harry bit his tongue, resisting the urge to make a sexual comment. She was his employee, after all.

"Yeah, they made them pretty good. There's a Chinese place i went to in Frisco that's incredible."

"I think I know the place. In vitro meat and grown food instead of synthesized?"

Harry nodded and took a sip of his wine. "Shame you're on duty, this vintage is incredible. If you ever meet Jean-Luc, you'll have met a man who knows wine as well as he knows command."

"I was going to be transferred to the Enterprise before I got injured."

He nodded. "Shame. But if you want to be commissioned in my fleet, you may end up in command of at least a flight group."

"How is it going to work? The files say they'll be connected together."

"Are there toys that link together so they don't fall apart? Like Lego or K'nex?"

"Yeah, Lego is a very popular toy still." Neither realized how much they had changed since Harry had bought them centuries ago for his children. Now they were a small, amorphous marble sized balls of goo that could be formed into various shapes and solidified to create massive solid structures by manual manipulation or via PADD setting the shape.

"Imagine a massive ship, shaped like a marble. The ship is a massive space station/carrier. Inside is a full fleet of ships from fighters up to dreadnauts. And there will be seven of them, one for each house of my school, two for earth and Potter's Rock, and then mine which will probably be golemed instead of manned."

"How many people per ship?"

"Too many. Our planetary population is about two billion. It'll take over a million people to run each of these ships. We can use magic to force multiply but magitek is a still mostly unresearched field," Harry said, scowling. "We'll also downsize the design, I think."

~•~

An automated buoy at 3000 AU from Sol interrogated Harry's ship. Landor sent back their itinerary and their ship registry and they received an optimized flightpath back to Earth.

Harry came onto the bridge, pulling his wooly pully into place. "Terran space?"

"Yeah. We're on an expedited flightpath and can dry or wet dock as you prefer."

"Dry. Try your new face."

She tapped her heavily customized comm badge—a magical copy of Harry's, able to communicate with his only and activate a few spells—on the left descending point three times then on the top point twice and her slightly androgynous features were replaced by the luscious features the stripper who had performed a lesbian gangbang at Harry's Stag Do had once worn. It had been setup by Ron and George and had been the cause of many, many explosions at the Weasley household when Molly finally learned of it.

"That's a permanent enchantment until you remove it, reversing the way to activate it then saying 'Stealth.'"

"Are my tits actually bigger?" she asked, groping herself. Harry found himself watching rather intently and shook his head.

"Yes. It didn't change your height or anything because you're not used to a shifting body frame of reference. My cousin—I mentioned Tonks, before, right?" she nodded. "She could shift from a two meter height down to about a meter and a half easily though her weight was a constant. It made her a bit clumsy because she was shifting her centre of gravity all the time, usually by accident. She actually forgot her own face by the time she was sixteen. I guess it was a rather common malady for the more skilled metamorphmagus."

She nodded, looking at a closeup of herself in the forward display, groping herself and twisting to see how her backside looked.

Harry snickered. "Your arse is the same. I only changed your breasts, the retinal pattern in your eyes, and your bone structure so no one recognizes you. Oh, and skin color."

She nodded and went to change while he flew the rest of the way.

She returned in a light brown velvet pinafore with gold tights and a gold accented black waist cincher over a white blouse that had the newly replicated smell to it, a pair of gold stilettos dangling from her fingers.

"I love your replicator. It's so much better than the ones we had in my quarters in Starfleet."

"How's it better?"

"A lot more choices. And the quality seems better. Maybe because yours is less used?"

She brought the ship down to the dock assigned to them then they left the ship.

A lieutenant checked their identifications—both had temporary diplomatic credentials—and then gave a salute. "Came up through the Marines?" Landor asked.

The young female blushed a bit as she nodded. Starfleet Marines were an actual military, the men and women that protected Starfleet personnel and their bases. The majority of security teams on Starships were all enlisted personnel. "Welcome back to earth, Captain X and welcome to Earth Miss Malleable." Luscious Lee Malleable name of the prostitute from his Stag Do. Though he had used Lucy on her identification.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Morrissey of Section 31 jumped. He had been dozing at his desk when his computer informed him that a watched vessel had reentered the Sol System.

He looked at the data and saw that Harry X had returned. Four times the man had returned to the Sol System, three times Section 31 had tried to place trackers on his system. Two times they had shut down before leaving Sol, the third time it had shut down less than a parsec from Sol space. All had been on the same vector, towards Wolf 359.

He contacted the listening centers at Wolf 359—an old decommissioned Star Base surrounded by a fleet of decommissioned ships waiting to be disassembled—and the listening center on the edge of the Andorian Space.

With the two Section 31 officers at those stations prepared to watch for Harry X's ship, he slipped out of his uniform and into a dock worker's uniform then tapped his comm badge. "One to Gold Dock." A high priority dock, where Harry X had docked the last few times due to his dilithium holdings.

* * *

Harry walked along Diplomatic Row, an old section of Versaille that survived the Third World War. Each diplomatic mansion was built in the style of their world's needs.

He strolled along with the various tourists, smiling as children oohed and aahed over the Vulcan design. He had expected it to be utilitarian but it wasn't. _The artistry is amazing, _he thought_. They use our materials better than the muggles can. _Then he realized how antimuggle that sounded.

He decided to talk to them next, after his appointment. They were much more willing to allow walk-ins unlike his next hosts.

At the next Embassy, two Klingons glared at him.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead said in what he hoped was fairly passable Klingon, "I have an appointment with Ambassador Dessel'b of the House of Vultan."

He rubbed his throat. "Did I get that right?"

The guard on the right took the invitation he held out as the one on the left nodded. "Good Ketha Lowlands accent."

"Thanks, I spent a long time working on it."

He was allowed in after a check for weapons—they let him keep his wands not knowing what they were and nodded appreciatively at his boot dagger and took a scan of it, complimenting him on the design[sixteen inches of chisel shaped steel with a sawtooth blade married to the hilt of a Mark I Trench Knife]—then he was escorted in by a bureaucrat.

"Wait here," he was told.

He admired the architecture. It was as if he were standing in the middle of a medieval armoury, the walls covered with thousands of bladed and blunt weapons with archaic armours on various stands.

"Captain Harry?"

He turned and saw the incredibly gnarled forehead and long, grey matted hair of a high caste Klingon. "You're High Caste?" he said, the shock evident in his voice. "I thought you never left the planet?!"

"Yes, you know our castes?"

"I spoke with Worf, Son of Mogh on the Enterprise a few times. he told me about the castes over firewine. He made it sound like you had all been displaced by the warrior caste. I thought you never left Q'onos?" he asked again.

The old klingon laughed at that. "Most of us have. But some of the old families still have some power. I'm one of the few who can accept the inoculations for the disease that keeps us on Q'onos but I cannot return. I don't mind though, I like exploring the galaxy. What did you need?"

"I'd like to purchase a Klingon K'Tarakh class freighter and ninety modules."

"That is a new generation of freighter with significant armament," the ambassador said. "I'm not sure that—"

"One thousand kilograms of starship grade dilithium."

The ambassador's eyes widened. "You are _that_ Captain Harry then?"

Harry nodded.

Dessel'b held his hand out and the two shook hands. "I'll have the ship delivered to wherever you'd like it delivered. The modules can be broken down and the extra sixty packed into the thirty the ship will carry or stored in transport buffer patterns or they can be delivered separately."

"Half stored, half buffered. Leave it registered in the Klingon Empire under my name, Harry X. Sirius system, here's my personal comm frequency, the dilithium will be delivered here to the embassy within ninety-six hours by Starfleet personnel." Harry knew that a high caste or warrior caste Klingon could be trusted on this deal, Honor above all was required of both.

He left the embassy. "Thank you, warriors," he said and stepped out onto the street. He realized he missed the smell of incense and exotic woods of the Embassy and took out his padd, adding a note to add a note to the delivery PADD that he would like to purchase enough wood of the Embassy's type to outfit a library and incense.

Done with that he headed towards the Vulcan one.

At the gate, a pair of Vulcan females who were evidently rather cold nodded to him. "Welcome to Vulcan," one said. "How can we be of service?" the other asked.

He introduced himself. "I would like to discuss the hiring of Vulcan teachers for a new martial and science oriented academy."

One of the females stepped to a computer and contacted those inside. "The ambassador is unavailable but the deputy ambassador is free to speak with you in ninety-seven minutes time for eighteen minutes."

Harry programmed that into his PADD. "I will return then. My thanks."

He went to get lunch, trying not to think about their apparent coldness.

A long ploughman's lunch in Olde London with an almost syrupy wheat beer and a treacle tart for dessert—that he only ate a bite of[he had hoped time would make them palatable again. it hadn't.]—then he took the ferry back to France and the elevated monorail, trying to ignore the little girl who was sitting on the seat in front of him, kneeling and looking his way, watching the couple behind him arguing about where to have dinner.

He checked the time on his PADD as he stepped off the monorail at the Diplomatic Row stop. He still had eight minutes until his appointment so he took the far path around and strolled slowly.

He was two buildings away when his PADD gave off a minute warning. Harry stepped up his pace and approached the gates just as the PADD chimed it was time for his appointment. The Vulcans on guard—the same two females—let him in as a male Vulcan walked out. "This way, Captain Harry."

Inside the Embassy, he was led through a beautifully designed hallway that was filled with Vulcan art. "Can I receive some documentation on the various Vulcan mind controls and magicks? From Kolinahr mysticism back to mythical material?"

"We will have the documentation ready for you when you leave, Captain X."

In the Deputy Ambassador's office, Harry was a little surprised to have a hand held out to him but he wrapped his own mind in occlumency and shook the Vulcan woman's hand as the guide said, "Captain Harry X, Deputy Ambassador T'Ryl."

"Deputy Ambassador," he said as he sat at her invitation, surprised that she seemed to be a natural blonde with almond eyes, plush lips, and the most graceful looking ears he had seen yet on a Vulcan. "My people left Earth over three centuries ago and have remained a mostly hidden world of approximately two billion, only allowing the family of and those who have the same genetic ability to come to our world. But we've decided to come back into the wider galaxy and require instructors. I hoped I would be able to hire Vulcans as I expect that your people would be more likely to keep our secret than most others."

She nodded. "What are the requirements?"

He held out a roll of parchment. "This is a simplified Non-Disclosure Agreement. if you agree, we can meet at a secondary location where you or the representative you think best qualified to perform the duty outlined in this NDA will sign a fuller NDA for acting as my representative in hiring instructors."

She studied the NDA then opened her desk and took out an ink stylus. A few moments later, her signature and title and date was signed on the parchment. "Curious. This feels like animal parchment but smells of plant material."

"It's made of a type of reed manipulated to appear as animal parchment," Harry said. "When would be a good time for me to meet your representative?"

"This evening at local time 2100? I shall meet you. I am currently in the last steps of returning to Vulcan before accepting a new assignment. Therefore, I have time to act as your representative."

Harry told her where his ship was then thanked her.

He was a little surprised at how attractive the woman he been. He had expected a Deputy Ambassador to be an old woman. T'Ryl had turned out to be a stunningly beautiful blonde woman with her long hair done up in a bun—he estimated it was down to her bum at the least—and a surprisingly smoking jacket like robe with kimono style sleeves over what he thought was a lace camisole. Neither were thick enough to hide the fact she was very cold it seemed. Harry wondered if the erectile tissue in all Vulcan females were so easily stimulated considering he was almost sweating.

"Dinner during?" he asked.

She nodded. "I am a vegetarian. I do not mind cheese, milk, or animal derived broths in my food but, like the majority of Vulcans, i do not eat actual animal flesh. I do like soy derived bacon substitute."

Harry grinned. "Not a problem. I have a very, very well liked recipe for a bacta-bacon-steak."

He stood and left, the guide waiting for him outside with a disposable PADD. "Here is the documentation, Captain X."

"Thank you."

He slipped it along his own PADD then tossed the disposable into a nearby trash receptacle.

As he walked along, reading their views on magicks, he stopped as he passed the Bolian embassy.

He turned back and stepped into the short line waiting to petition the guards.

When it was his turn, Harry said, "Captain Harry X, wishing to discuss purchasing a—" he opened his PADD's cover and checked it. "A Tektek class transport."

The guard checked his name on a Federation database and saw he was a gold-level human—due to his Dilithium holdings—from an unknown and likely non-federation member planet and had visited two Embassies this morning. "An appointment can be set for this afternoon at 1600 hours."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

He walked off, checking his dilithium stores. He had 7432 kilograms on earth, of that, only 4012 kilograms were Starship grade and one thousand of that was already sold off.

_Three more ships_, he thought. _And Bolians are another thou. So two_.

He wasn't buying their cargo ships to start a cargo company. He wanted their weapons and their warp technology. He might have been able to buy it cheaper just buying the technology but he didn't want them to think he needed the technology.

He stopped at the Xepolite embassy and went through the same thing as at the Bolian embassy, though this time he was let in immediately and an intern from their Deputy Vice-Ambassador for Economics greeted them.

"How may we help you?"

"I wish to purchase a—" he had to check his PADD again, trying to block out how much the alien looked like Rocky Dennis in Mask "—a Xess Hol IX class freighter."

It took almost an hour of negotiating but soon Harry had a signed contract for a brand new freighter for 765 kilograms of dilithium. They refused to leave it fully armed no matter how much he was willing to pay, instead leaving only one pair of fully powered weaponry and replacing the rest of the weapons blisters with a previous generation of weaponry.

He checked the time. He had almost two hours until his meeting with the Bolians so he decided to go the Galipotan embassy.

Like the Xepolitian Embassy, he was in and out with a contract signed though this time he had had to tack on a hefty bribe and was now down to 1014 kilograms left to spend on cargo ships.

He stopped at a small café and settled in for an hour of waiting for his Bolian appointment.

That ended up being as easy as the Klingons had been in negotiating and after a handshake and a signed contract, Harry had purchased his four armed freighters and had another few hours to finish reading about vulcan Magicks.

He decided to head back to the café and ordered a small loaf of bread; the café's daily special cheese, a chèvre; and a young, fruity red wine the waitress said the owner suggested paired well.

The platter came with basil leaves, tomato wedges, and an oil and balsamic vinaigrette for dipping it in.

He ended up too distracted by what he was reading to eat more than two slices of bread with cheese and toppings on it and a few sips of wine.

Vulcans had no empirical evidence of telekinesis, non-touch telepathy, or other forms of ritual magic for more than ten thousand years. And those records were considered suspect due to their internecine civil wars and propaganda of the time.

He checked hybrids. There were ninety-seven half Human/half Vulcans and over ten thousand of various other percentages. He wondered if any of them were with magicals. He made a mental note to check on that then closed the PADD's cover and slipped it into his jacket.

He stepped into a dark section of the park the diplomatic row surrounded and said, "One to beam aboard" then apparated back to the ship.

He plugged his PADD into the desk in his cabin and went to change. His leather trousers and old army jacket got tossed into the autocleaner and he stood in his vintage—very vintage since he had had it since 2006—tee and camo boxers—Fleur had bought him his first pair, teasing him that no one would ever see him cumming[Hermione had groaned then explained the joke to a lost Harry]—and decided what to wear. _The two of us meeting for dinner felt kind of datey but at the same time, _Harry mused_, she's acting as my agent to hire people._

He wondered how Vulcans dated. _Maybe they exchange CVs and lists of interests then decide whether they have enough interests to go from there,_ he mused.

He decided to dress well. A pair of grey slacks, his favorite Bruno Malleys, and a black silk shirt.

* * *

T'ryl approached the Alcyone at exactly 2100 hours and the hatch opened and the ramp descended.

She stepped aboard and looked around. "Permission to come aboard?"

Lieutenant Landor dashed around the corner. "Apologies, I was delayed. Welcome aboard Deputy-Ambassador T'ryl, permission granted. I'll show you to Harry."

"Thank you," she said.

T'ryl followed Landor, blinking a couple times. Something about the woman's appearance left her feeling like something was wrong.

She filed the thought away to think on later as she was shown into a room where Harry was in the middle of slicing vegetables. "Welcome aboard," Harry said. "Wine? It's been denatured."

She nodded and he poured her a glass. T'ryl took a sip and asked, "How was it denatured without losing its bouquet?"

"That can be answered once you finish reading and signing the expanded NDA agreement. The stylus used to sign the NDA will cause a small amount of pain as it uses your blood to sign the agreement."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Is this a legal requirement on your world?"

"Yes."

She nodded and unrolled the scroll. "This phrase: it appears to be a latin dialect but I do not know it." She pronounced it almost perfectly.

"It translates as 'By my will, thy secrets kept.' It's part of the boilerplate."

Harry continued chopping as she took up the quill, studying it then began to write her legal name _T'Ryl, daughter of T'Ana, child of the house of Suran_.

"Fascinating, I detect no mechanism for extracting blood, felt no piercing of the skin, heard no transporter whine, though there was mild discomfort as I wrote."

"That's because it was magic," Harry said, waving his hand, making the scroll roll up and fly upwards, sliding into a waiting scroll holder and the cap spin into place. "Your experience with those is much better than my first. A professor used I to torture me. Luckily, I got to kill her a few years later." He noticed her eyes widen slightly and he grimaced. "I was in the middle of a war in my youth. She was an enemy combatant at the time. Now, ask your questions to disprove magic."

"Many cultures state that they can perform magic."

Harry's wand slipped into his hand and she blinked as the carrot he had sliced as she read was now whole again then the loaf of bread on the table was sliced and arrayed on its wood try, not a hint of crumbs. "My culture doesn't just state, we do. But I was rather annoyed to find that my culture had continued its insular ways while I was accidentally exiled from it. I want to take them out to the stars again and we need teachers to create officers for a fleet of our own."

"Why do you not just ask Federation personnel? You are human after all."

"Your people are touch-telepaths. My people are eye-line telepaths. Think of a seven word sequence." She did as told as he mouthed a word. "Surak-Totality-Tehsat-Emerald-Thak'dahf-Abrashau-Dah'guv'es. Apologies, your language is still a little difficult for me. Your double fricative rules are rough on my tongue."

"Fascinating. And do you know what they mean?"

"No, you weren't thinking about their meaning, just that sequence. And Vulcan minds are alien enough that a test I ran on another Vulcan made it impossible to delve deeper like I can other humans. And to answer your question from before, my people were hunted and tried to be turned into weapons by the mundanes of Earth before the Federation was born. My people have a long memory. We will never join the Federation or allow them on our worlds or colonies. That is one major requirement of staffing: no active or inactive duty Starfleet personnel and they'll have to sign NDAs like yours."

She nodded as he began sautéing their dinner and placed their bacon-steaks on a grill.

He handed his wand over. "Perform a circle then a forward jab and say 'Lumos.'"

She did as told. Nothing happened. He took his wand back and performed the same action. The tip of his wand lit up.

"Why did they hunt you?"

"This was during the eugenics wars. They wanted us to be weapons. We… disagreed with the idea. We purchased a large number of generational ships, put the flora and fauna into protective stases, then left to a new world that we had surmised could handle magical life. It could and did and we are there now, still in hiding."

"When can I see it?"

"When are you leaving Earth? I can take you there then to Vulcan."

"That will be acceptable. I will have my belongings delivered here in the morning."

They sat down to dinner and began discussing the requirements of the posting. After an hour of talking and eating and a very rich dessert that she quested the recipe for, Harry decided to ask a few questions he had.

"I have a few questions about Vulcans that can border on the personal."

She nodded. "If they are too personal, I shall not reply."

Hia first questions were mostly about their history of magic as he poured her another glass of wine.

Finally, he got to the one that he really wanted to ask.

The first thing I ever noticed about a Vulcan was a female on the Enterprise. She, and every Vulcan woman since then has had their… mammary's erectile tissue seemingly perpetually stimulated," he said, trying to make it sound more clinical.

"A question I have never had before though I have noticed many humans stare at my breasts."

"You are rather well endowed and very beautiful," he said. "We don't have the control Vulcans do."

"You haven't stared."

"I have near eidetic memory. I don't need to stare at women," he admitted. There was a twitch of the corner of her lips. "Did you almost smile?"

"Yes. That was an amusing statement. And it's been some time since someone has apparently verbally commented me in what could be considered such a smooth way.

"As for our perpetual arousal compared to human females, our erectile tissue in our nipples expands in a vertically instead of horizontal and vertical orientation so those with pronounced nipples will often look aroused compared to human women."

"Interesting. Doesn't that make it more difficult for your children to feed?"

"It can. The thas-spol—a breast pump, I believe?"

"To extract milk for later feedings?" Harry supplied and she nodded.

"Yes. For those of us whose nipples are too large for breast feeding a child, a breast pump is used though some females will have their nipples surgically modified so they can breast feed naturally. My mother did so. I will likely do so as well. She said that breast-feeding my sisters, brother, and I was very rewarding."

"Do Vulcans visually signify their pairings?" he asked. "I saw a couple who were attending but they seemed to have no signification they were married like humans using rings."

"Yes. Unmarried females have their hair up at all times in public. Married females wear theirs down or up as they please but if their hair is up, they wear a priska with gems on it."

"So you're single then?"

"I am, yes. I am relatively young for my position and am not in an arranged marriage due to my being the youngest in my family. Are you interested in me?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed, that was rude. I'm a male, it's been a very long time since I've been in a relationship."

"How long? You appear to be less than two decades old."

"Appearances can be very deceiving. I was born July 31 on Earth in 1980."

Her eyelids flickered, enough he thought she was very surprised. "Do all of your people have such longevity treatments?"

"We are naturally long-lived. A magical could live as long as two hundred years rather easily when I was born without any form of longevity treatment. Now we live to an average of 257 years I've been informed. With longevity treatments, it's now closer to three hundred. Strangely, due to some magical incidents in my youth during our own secret war, it seems to have changed me in some way. I don't age beyond how I look now."

"This is all rather hard to believe."

"That's why I'm taking you home.

"And yes, I find you attractive. Though I have no interest in marriage."

"Marriage is only a social contract with a government-approval to it. How are females treated in your culture?"

"A woman is just as capable as a man of using magic making us equals so we are a rather egalitarian society but due to the original medieval underpinnings of our society women are more likely to be a stay-at-home type."

"Do you think a hybrid would have your abilities?"

"I don't know. Sadly, I know of only one magical who's married an alien species and they have no child yet. I know another who is the child of a squib, she's part deltan and part veela. She's also a squib.

"I think though, it would take two generations. The first generation would likely be squibs—a term for mundane children born to magical humans—and them mating together would more likely create a magical hybrid."

"Shall I speak to Vulcan geneticists?"

"Yes, but same rules and NDAs."

"This has been an incredibly fascinating evening," she said as she stood. "Thank you for dinner. I will be here tomorrow morning at zero nine hundred hours local and will be ready to leave Earth."

"I shall see you then," Harry replied and escorted her out.

When he stepped back onto the ship, Landor looked at him, disappointed. "Huh, I figured if anyone could hook up with a Vulcan the first day he met her, it'd be you."

"Please stop reading magical romance novels!" In the three centuries he had been on the planet, his people had really, really gotten it into their head he was some sort of sex god. That was the only fiction about him he liked though fictional him was better hung than he was.

She giggled then asked, "So she's your agent?"

"For hiring people. I'm sure I'll be able to get some Vulcan intelligence agents eventually." None of the squibs who were spying on the Federation were on Vulcan. Logic lead to Ideological turncoats fairly often, Harry knew and he was sure he would be able to get someone willing to keep him apprised of internal Vulcan affairs that could harm his world.

"Captain, you wanted me to remind you when it was midnight," Allie said, her avatar appearing in front of them, a black 'skinned' woman with green text streaming around her body, looking like a bodycon dress, stiletto heels and platforms, and a hair band while fiery orange lights were her eyes.

"New skin?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I liked the look of the actress in the movie you watched last night. Her dress sense was very impressively trampy."

"You look like a slutty Cortana, yes."

Her eyes flashed orange in various hues then stopped. "Cortana as in the video game artificial intelligence, Cortana the sword, or Cortana the digital personal assistant?"

"The first."

Harry headed to bed, imagining T'ryl in a bodycon dress. It was an impressive mental image, he decided.

~•~

He awoke early and slipped off the yacht to take the monorail from Los Angeles to New York.

After forty minutes, he got off the monorail and headed for his last interview for the trip.

An armless man opened the door before he could knock and inclined his head at Harry's affirmation of who he was.

"Come in."

"I read your NDA. No witnesses needed for me to sign it?"

"Just me. The stylus will use your blood to sign it, using a micro-transporter to draw the blood from your finger as you hold it."

"Weird. Why my blood?"

"Cultural rules."

The man nodded.

Harry studied the man as he looked at the quill, surprised at the design evident in his eyes. He was dark skinned and with his balding forehead and long hair, he looked like a crestless Worf.

He signed, hissing in surprise at the pain but his eyes went wide as his blood covered the line in an untidy scrawl.

Harry tucked away the quill and placed the scroll in a holder then began to explain. It took almost forty minutes of various displays of magical talent for the man to believe Harry wasn't using some sort of transporter-portal-holodeck-replicator scheme to trick the man.

"I accept."

"Good. And we may be able to grow you a new arm. Actually, can you explain something? I've been told of people using the transporter system to replace lost limbs or heal themselves from illn—"

"Had I used the transporter within a two week period before my injury, it would have been possible but it had been nearly six months since my last beam-up. My pattern was no longer in the buffer and even if it was, I would have lost a significant amount of experiences I would prefer not to lose. It's why many people elect not to do such."

Harry nodded. "That makes a lot of sense. But what about cloning?"

"Starfleet medical has me set for six weeks from now. Since I'm retired, i'm not a priority. I have a really nice prosthetic, I just didn't feel like wearing it."

"Ahh. That makes sense. Well, this is your boarding ticket for Sirius. I'll see you in a month, Professor Moriarty. Also, don't turn out to be the concierge of crime," he asked.

Moriarty laughed uproariously as he stood to show Harry out.

~•~

Harry returned to the Alcyone and saw it was still well before nine. He went to start breakfast for three though he presumed T'ryl would have eaten on her own.

Nonetheless, he prepared a tasteful display of a pineapple carved watermelon with smaller fruit spilling out of it for the centre display then began preparing the rest of the breakfast, putting it back in the slot for the replicator, having it hold the foods in abeyance.

He thought the display was a little too perfect so he stole a slice of the candied fruit that made up the 'pineapple's' leaves and left it looking lopsided.

At exactly 0900 Allie's voice filled the room. "Must all Vulcans be so pedantic?"

Harry rolled his eyes and told her to grant the woman permission to board.

~•~

Landor jumped down the boarding ramp and gave a cheerful "Good morning!"

"And to you," T'ryl replied.

"Permission granted to board," the hologram said from the hatch. "Cheery McCheerpants will help you move into your quarters."

T'ryl's eyebrow raised when she saw the duffel and backpack inside the quarters. "Am I displacing you, lieutenant?"

"Nah. I'm on the bridge all the time anyway. I got a really comfortable cot up there, it's fine. The environmental controls will reach vulcan norms so you should be comfortable for the trip. Harry and I are about to have breakfast if you want to join us."

T'ryl set her items inside and turned up the heat and lowered the humidity of the room then followed Landor to the room she had eaten dinner the night before.

Harry was placing the last plates on the table and she recognized the faint smell of dirt and soap. He was once again serving real foods instead of synthesizer fare.

Harry pointed at the bacon on the plate nearest her. "Soy. this stuff here," he said, pointing at the platter nearest him, "is real pork."

"Tea, juice, water, or plomeek broth?"

"Plomeek broth, please," she asked. Even if it was from a synthesizer, it was always palatable.

Landor set out three cups of it.

Harry added a dash of salt to his then filled his plate with eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit. "We'll lift off at 1300 hours. I have one more meeting before we leave."

Landor finished her broth quickly then left.

T'ryl savored hers. Harry's replicator was of excellent quality though it could not compare to her grandmother's preparation of plomeek.

She noticed gespar in the fruit display and speared a few onto a small plate.

"This is excellent gespar," she said upon tasting it. It was perfectly picked at optimum ripeness and still had the faintest trace of dirt on it as it should. "Where did you get it?"

"A mister Boothby at the Academy grows it. Captain Picard suggested I speak to him about potentially attending the academy. I elected not to but did make a deal with him about fresh foods when I'm here.

"I did some more reading before falling asleep last night. The Kahs Wan sounds rather dangerous."

"It is. But we learned long ago that taken to its logical conclusion, our philosophy of logic would cripple us. Does your culture have an equivalent?"

"Seven years of boarding school?" he asked, humor in his voice but a note of bitterness he couldn't fully hide.

She filed that away to ask about later as he waved his hand and a handful of books floated into the room. "Those books will help assimilate you the culture."

She looked at the books, realizing they were bound in actual animal skin and potentially quite old. The first was Hogwarts, A History; the next book was Magical History and the Mages Who Made It, the third book was paperback sized and called On Potter's Rock; the fourth was called Just What Exactly Is Harry Potter; and the fifth was A Muggleborn's Guide to Your New Culture and Understanding Why Logic Is So Rare Here.

Her eyebrow quirked and he smirked. "Logic and Common Sense go out the door when all it takes is a wave of a wand to violate every law you know."

She nodded after a moment's thought. It did make a modicum of sense.

Harry finished his breakfast and left.

She started to clear the table until Allie appeared. "No need for that."

T'ryl nodded and left the room. A moment later a house-elf appeared and began happily feeding the plates and leftover food into the replicator to be converted into its base material to be reused.

The little house-elf got to work cleaning happily, whistling a discordant melody.

* * *

They were on their third day of a nine day trip when T'ryl set down her quill—she found writing in longhand to be a centering exercise and had done all her notes in a purple field notes notebook with green ink that Harry had given her as a welcome aboard gift on his return from his appointment—and closed her book. She had reread the biography of Captain Harry, surprised that she wasn't surprised to learn he was considered a god by some of his people.

The notebook was filled with questions. The majority she expected to answer on Potter's Rock but a number were very personal.

She went to find Harry, knowing he was either on the bridge, in his quarters reading, or working out in the small cargo area.

She found him in the cargo bay, performing a movement that she realized if it was sped up would be a devastating throat strike. "Tai Chi?"

"No. Krav Maga performed like Tai Chi. How may I help you?"

"I would like to have your child."

Harry's head whipped around so hard he threw himself off balance and went down. T'ryl moved to help him up.

"I'm sorry, I took a water shower this morning and must not have gotten all the water out of my ears." He wiggled his fingers in his ears, trying to dislodge it.

"I would like to have a child with you. To see if our child would be magical."

"Wow. More water than I thought."

"You are being humorous?"

"Snarky—or making snide remarks—but most people find it humorous when it's not aimed at them. Why?"

"I am not pair bonded or promised to anyone. I understand you do not wish to marry. I believe that I am capable of raising a child on my own if need be."

"If I have any more children there would be no worries about that. And it's not that I don't wish to marry. I was married before. It was fantastic. Especially as my wife was also polyamorous."

T'ryl nodded. "In what sort of grouping?"

"Male and two females who were bisexual and cared for each other as they cared for me."

She thought. "I believe that i would be considered pansexual. Do you know this term?"

Harry stood up and manipulated his neck. "You're attracted to the person or personality, not the gender?"

"Yes, that would be a viable definition of my sexuality."

"And if we were to have a relationship, you could see yourself in a potential polyamorous one?"

"I do not know. It is not something I've thought of. But if I am not capable, I would still like to be a mother of a child or more than one with you."

"How have you not been married already?"

"I went through my first Pon Farr eleven years ago. There were no unattached males that were compatible. I and another female sated my urge to procreate. My next Pon Farr I used a suppressing drug so I could perform solo satiation of my urges." The first had to happen, the latter Pon Farrs could be suppressed but it was dangerous.

Harry conjured a pair of chairs facing each other. "I read some erotica last night allegedly by a Vulcan. I'm very tempted to ask you to describe how you did so."

"What did you read?"

"T'Leiah's duology Senses and Pleasures."

"They were written by a Vulcan, three hundred years ago. They are considered some of the greatest prose on sensuality."

"Vulcans make great and little sense at the same time," he muttered.

He looked at her instead of her eyes as he had been. She wore a one-piece outfit, made of emerald green in various hues, a geometric pattern that was elegant in its design along with boots with a mid-height heel.

"I guess the only think I can say right now is 'Attend me.'"

A twitch of the corner of her mouth made him think she just smiled. He made a mental note to see if Vulcans were readable by Facial Action Coding as she stood and said, "I believe that my answer to that should be 'kiss me.'"

He found she was only an inch shorter as he drew her into a kiss.

As they kissed, she could feel his physical arousal tactilely and his mental arousal as a pseudo mind-meld was activated by their touch. His arousal and interest helped feed her own which was pushed back to him, exponentially arousing both of them.

T'ryl pulled away and looked down at her clothing, a flush of green darkening her cheeks due to uncontrollable embarrassment at her arousal staining her clothes.

"You kiss well," he said, dropping down onto the seat, adjusting his trousers so they were not as painful.

"As do you. And yes, I will someday tell you about my Pon Farrs."

Harry grasped her hand and pulled him into her lap. The mind-meld was reformed but their ardor had cooled enough she no longer was nearly overwhelmed. "In your own time. Shall we see how sexually compatible we are?"

"Humans and Vulcans have lon—oh." She felt what he meant and his amusement at her missing his innuendo for a moment. "Yes. I believe we should see how compatible we are."

~•~

T'ryl studied his hand clasped in hers as they lay in bed, studying the loops and whirls of his middle finger. "I have never done that."

"Hu—oh," he realized what he had been thinking about. "It just crossed my mind."

"Yes. Because I have 'Dick Sucking Lips?'"

"A term from my youth. Plump lips were called such. Oral sex from thin or thick lips is both quite pleasurable."

She nodded then kissed the tip of his finger she had finished studying. "Would this finger then be considered very competent at digital stimulation of orgasms?"

"Hmmm, you could call it a Competent Clit Flicker," he teased as he slipped his hand back down between her thighs.

A flicker of amusement was readable for a moment until he kissed her again.

~•~

They dressed after showering and she nodded as she fixed her hair. "Yes, I find that we are very sexually compatible.

"What is Facial Action Coding? You were thinking about it when we began kissing the first time?"

"It was a hypothesis on how the muscles that cause human facial movements are the same no matter what culture you're from so if you can see a twitch, you can know what the person is actually feeling no matter what they're portraying. I don't know if it ever became theory."

"Yes, we do have such. I will request the information for you when we arrive on Vulcan."

He smiled as she pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek then pulled back. "Yes, I can see why humans like to do that to their significant others. It was rather fulfilling."

"The kiss or the sex?"

"The kiss. The sex was very fulfilling."

"And filling," he teased as he leaned down and kissed her again.

* * *

"Sire," the witch said as Harry, T'ryl, and Landor came through the floo, Harry stumbling as usual while the two females were much more graceful.

"Fascinating," T'ryl said as she looked around. She had been accepting of his proof before but traveling via fire and seeing children flying by on brooms was astounding.

The witch held out a thick stack of parchment. "Wizengamot actions while you were gone, requests, and your Federation contact has sent you a message. It's on the bottom. And princess Cirillia wants a date for tea."

Harry nodded. "Tell her tomorrow at high tea at home. She can bring friends if she wishes. No more than four. Layout suitable robes for my guest charmed to maintain a temperature of 44 celsius and have guest suite C charmed the same. Where are my guards?"

"Behind you, sire."

He turned and saw the contingent waiting on him. He gestured the commander forward. "Three guards with T'ryl when she's touring. Procure a knowledgeable guide. Anything she asks about, answer within reason."

He turned back to where the two females were conversing with his assistant. "T'ryl, This is Commander Longbottom. He will assign a few aurors—"

"Your law enforcement personnel?"

"Yes. They'll be your guides as I have a large amount of work today and tomorrow morning. I shall see you for dinner in—" He flicked his wand, checking the current time. A time spell had been created few decades after landing on the planet, though it only worked on theirs. "Thirteen earth standard hours."

She nodded and turned to Longbottom who held his hand out.

"They're touch telepaths," Harry told him. "Only touch her to help her."

"Of course, Sire. This way Miss T'ryl. What does your name mean?"

"A contraction of an old Vulcan word for a surprise child. My parents were rather surprised to find themselves pregnant."

~•~

T'ryl found the land conveyance they used to be fascinating. She recognized the vehicle—a 1925 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost—from an antiques show she had attended as part of her embassy duties though from the specifications she had read, the vehicle could not fly, do three hundred miles per hour, or maneuver like the vehicle was now.

The vehicle landed and rolled into a hillock. Crystals began to shine as stalagmites and stalactites began to raise and lower, closing off the entrance to protect them from the dragons.

"This way, miss T'ryl," said Longbottom.

They took an escalator down almost a thousand feet then found themselves in a massive catacomb, filled with goblins. Four guards and a guide fell into step.

The guide began to speak. "When-The-Thief-Known-As-Potter came to offer our place on the generational ships, there was one requirement: That we open our cities to visitors and sign a peace accords."

T'ryl listened in great fascination as the goblin vacillated between hatred and admiration for Harry for his cunning at robbing them, his putting down of a rebellion personally, and his execution of one of their kings.

The information matched what she read for the most part, though the goblins presented themselves as an oppressed species while Harry's biographer had added various details about goblins breaking faith and attempting to steal contracted items.

She wondered how much metaphorical blood was on Harry's hands.

~•~

Dinner was floating into the room, settling on the table as she walked into the massive dining room. Two places were set at the table with Harry already seated at one, books open as he read.

As she approached, he stood and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Good tour?"

"Most satisfactory. Is this food prepared by house-elves?"

"Yes. All house-elves are imperial property. They're leased out for use to the homes they want to work for. The ones that don't have homes help raise crops and maintain the cities. It's partially slave-labor but more of a symbiotic relationship. They want to work so they do the menial stuff for far cheaper than it would be to pay a magical to do it."

He used his wand to make the books fly back to the shelves in his library.

"What is a pensieve?"

"A rare memory recall device. I can show you later." Albus's had gone to his brother and his brother had left it to Harry. "Why do you ask?"

"When we kissed, you were thinking about it."

"Strange. I thought I was thinking about you naked."

"That as well," she said, a faint flush of green darkening her cheeks. "I feel so young. I haven't had this much difficulty controlling autonomic responses since I was fifteen."

Harry laughed. "The infatuation stage of any relationship is rather damaging to one's self-image. Looking back at trying to win Hermione's heart I was an absolute fool yet thought myself so suave."

"Was I just mentioned?"

T'ryl jumped and turned. The woman in the painting looking at her curiously appeared to be in her eighties but still quite beautiful.

"Hermione, T'ryl of Vulcan. T'ryl, the painting of my wife and a bit of an advisor."

"Ooh, a Vulcan. Come closer."

"Fascinating. The dried oil is actually moving as if it were still fluidic."

The two were drawn into a long conversation and Harry watched, amused as an imprint of his wife's memory suggested to his new lover various acts she could try.

"Oh, we have a Kama Sutra in the library."

"I have heard of this," T'ryl said. "Is this not a book of sexual positions from one of your Asian countries?"

"Yes. From India."

"We have a series of books like that as well though it's considered part of our sexual education: four hundred eight positions in just the heterosexual edition."

"Does it come in English?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hermione, we need to eat and you need to go."

"Oh, yes, of course. Bye honey. Very nice to meet you, T'ryl. He likes being spanked."

He pinched harder, gasping in pain.

T'ryl retook her seat and filled her plate with pasta and ratatouille. "Fascinating. One would think she would be jealous."

"In life, she was at times. Never of Fleur. But she didn't like when I worked with other women. I think because my type of worked caused major emotional ties to form."

"How does the intelligence get transferred? We have a type of ark that can hold the katra, the essence of the mind."

"I do not know. I would like to hear more about that but it sounds like it would interfere with the next great adventure."

That required an explanation and the rest of dinner was a discussion of their cultures' views on death.

* * *

Princess Cirillia smiled happily at the emperor but resisted the urge to run and hug him. There was an alien and her friends around and she had to be the princess, not a girl.

"Grandfather," she said as formally as she could. "These are my friends Talisa Tomei and Marisa Soto."

He nodded as they curtsied. "Ciri, Talisa, Maria, this is Lady T'ryl of Vulcan, my guest and agent for acquiring personnel to train our armed forces. T'ryl, my eldest descendant of her generation and current holder of the throne of Potter's Rock."

"I thought vulcans were…, ummm, pacifists?" Talisa asked. Her brother was training to be an infiltrator and discussed aliens at dinner.

"We do not believe in initiating conflict. We do believe in protecting ourselves and others. Therefore we are all expected to be competent with the weapons of the Federation and in hand-to-hand combat."

With the introductions over, they were led to five sided table set for high tea.

The girls were somewhat reticent due to the Emperor being part of their tea but Cirillia carried most of the conversation, asking T'ryl if they had rituals on Vulcan like the ones she performed.

~•~

Harry was escorting T'ryl this time. A Potter had just turned eleven and the girl had been delighted to learn that along with her parents, the Emperor and his guest would be joining them to watch her wand choose her.

"The wand chooses her?" T'ryl asked.

"Yes. A wand knows best who it will work with. Otherwise, we would choose the wand we want for what we think we'll be best at. My father's wand was excellent for transfigurations. My mother's for charm work. They both ended up specializing in those fields. My primary wand is best for defense. Which is what I excel at. Though occasionally defense calls for preemptive offense."

She nodded. Not in agreement but in understanding. His biography had been very detailed.

The first wand, one of Cherry wood with Unicorn mane hair led to a hole in the desk that bubbled and oozed onto the floor. Arielle White-Ollivander took the wand back and repaired the damage then handed over another wand.

T'ryl watched intently as wand after wand was tried until eventually a Willow and Thestral hair wand became the girl's companion.

"Sire?" his descendant asked, knowing that Harry had made study of wandlore a particular interest.

"Thestral is about death. Willow is about healing. I think that means you may be a superlative healer."

The girl grinned excitedly. "I've wanted to be a healer since I was little!"

"You still are little," he said, laughing. He patted her head. "Go along, go learn your spells. I expect a letter from you about your first year at Beauxbaton."

"Yes grandfather!"

She dashed out followed by her mother to contain her while her father paid for the wand.

"May I have a sample of your hair?" they heard and turned to see Arielle looking at T'ryl intently. "I would like to test Vulcan hair as a focus."

"Of course," T'ryl said. "Do you need the root or just a lock?"

"Seven hairs at least six inches in length will be enough."

She let her hair down then held out the amount for the witch to cut.

"Thank you. Sire," she said then went to get to work.

"Wandmakers," Harry muttered. "They'll all fanatics. No sense of propriety."

~•~

Harry was still debating if he would make the trip to Vulcan with Landor and T'ryl when his communicator chimed. "Allie to Harry."

He pulled his comm badge out of his overrobe's inner pocket and tapped it. "Harry."

"Andorian frequencies in use. Shall I begin scanning space?"

"Today was the earliest they expected to arrive, yes? Go ahead."

Five minutes later, she spoke again. "Sir, it's here."

Harry apparated to the floo terminal and said, "Out of the way."

People tripped over themselves trying to clear a path.

Once he was on the other planet where the mundane colonies were, he apparated into his ship and said, "Take off." He had moved it back to the colony after realizing it was in the way where he had it.

Allie lifted off immediately and Harry almost fell to the ground.

He grinned when he saw it. Three Andorian ships were using tractor beams to maneuver a Spacedock J-class starbase, a massive disk large enough to house seven starships inside the disk with a stylized cursive A descending from the disc with various external docking points.

"Captain Harry, is that you?"

"Open comms. Aye, it's me."

The screen came on and the Andorian smiled. "Good afternoon sir. We are here on the first day!"

"The bonus will be added to the payment. The ships should be—ahh, that's them."

Four small cargo vessels were rising from the colony world.

"Scans confirm the payment is intact. It has been a pleasure doing business with you. Captain Campbell and his team are aboard the base and at last communications from them stated the base was operational. Shall I connect them to you?"

"Yes."

The human who turned to the screen was a now retired Starfleet officer whose twin daughters were sixth years at Ilvermorny. "Harry, sir. It's good to see you. We're fully operational and holding station at L2. And we're right on time!" The rest of his crew were all civilians engineers with starfleet training also with magical relatives.

"Excellent, the first ship will be arriving tomorrow. A full six cargo ships in total will be arriving. Your first duties will be to strip them down to bare hulls and make sure they're not booby trapped or holding tracking mechanisms. Once you know they're clean, reassemble and start hiring them out for cargo services. I'd like to be in the black within a decade. I'm approaching hatch delta."

"Opening now."

Allie brought the ship in then carefully docked it the yacht at the one-alpha slip.

"Computer says you're properly connected but let us verify it manually."

Harry nodded. "Assemble the rest of the people so I can speak with you all. Knock when you're done."

He grabbed the first chest and set it next to the hatch then brought the rest from the bridge to the hatch.

Fifteen minutes later as he sat on the cases juggling ice balls there was a knock. Allie opened the hatch and four engineers smiled as Captain Campbell said, "Hello Emperor. Love the color of the Alcyone."

Allie's voice filtered out of the ship. "It's not my first choice but it is a good color."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Help me bring these out to where the rest of the crew is."

The six crates were soon stacked and the hundred engineers on the station were waiting for him to speak. "You're here. You're all alive. Things look great. I'd like to have it painted a more glacial white when we have more personnel but—" He waved his hand, making the crates open and bottles of champagne were revealed as wine glasses began to multiply on the table in front of him. "—that can wait. Thank you ladies and gentlemen! For those that don't drink alcohol, the ones with the green wax is synthehol champagne."

He poured wine in his own, Captain Campbell's, and Lieutenant Commander Marisol—a particularly hirsute Tellarite with great engineering talents—glasses as a lieutenant asked, "Why wine glasses, sir?"

"Ah, that's a good question. If you have any skill at recognizing the bouquet of a drink, try champagne in a flute then in a wine goblet and you'll realize why. Plus more per glass!"

Laughter filled the air as he raised his in toast once all had their goblets filled. "To the future of magitek!"

They echoed his toast and they all drank.

Harry spent another hour on the spacedock being shown around a bit then promised he would return soon for a fuller tour when possible and reminded Campbell to have his people design their uniforms and submit them. If he liked the designs, he would use them for the engineers' uniforms.

~•~

T'ryl made sure her bags were properly packed then stood and left the quarters she had been using in the castle Harry lived in. She had been somewhat surprised that he also lived in one of the guest rooms until he told her that the bedroom his wives had built held too many memories for him. That had made little sense at first until he explained they had brought all their items from Earth to decorate their home so it was no different than their bedroom had been on Earth.

She wanted to smile as she saw him walking her way. Instead, she held up two fingers and he placed his to hers then felt his amusement and his thoughts about her in the nightwear she had worn the night before, a silk green nightshirt that had clung to her in very interesting ways as her own thoughts on how fulfilled she felt at the moment were transferred to him.

"I am glad you liked it."

"I am glad I didn't accidentally tear it. Silk is one of the few materials that won't take a repair charm."

He gave her a kiss and she held him in place, deepening it. "Yes, very nice," she said upon ending it. "And yes, I do wish to make love again tonight."

"We'll leave at dusk," he told her, trying not to think about her naked. It didn't work. Her mouth twitched. "You smiled."

"You imagined me naked. I find your views of my body—illogical as they are—particularly pleasing."

"All women do."

"Sexist," she said but the twitch of her mouth happened again.

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose.

They ate breakfast leisurely—or Harry did, T'ryl read her PADD and made notes as she ate—listening to the wireless as it discussed the new spacedock and the new jobs it brought. "How many jobs?" T'ryl asked.

"At least three hundred magicals will be populating it, studying with the Vulcans you bring to hopefully advance magitek."

"I believe that for every eight magicals working, one Vulcan will be adequate."

"I'd say you're bragging but I find you to be worth at least nine women in bed."

"I believe the appropriate response to that would be to throw food at you." She did so and Harry caught the fruit in his mouth.

"Thank you."

~•~

"T'ryl," Harry said as she approached.

"Are you cleaning?" she asked as she noticed the antiquated looking broom he held then remembered they were also flying devices on this world.

"I just finished flying. My broom has a hairline crack in it though. And it was brand new." He set it aside. "My assistant can deal with it. Are you ready to return to the ship?"

She nodded. "My bags and the gifts I have received—" No one realized she and the Emperor were more than what they looked to be but she had received a number of gifts from magicals due to her being the first Vulcan to visit their planet and her willingness to answer various queries in depth "—have all been transferred to the room."

"Good. Let's go."

Inside the room, she asked, "Why are their seats? Is this a skyhook?"

He smiled. "No. This room is a Portkey enabled transit."

Harry sealed the room and a pylon came out of the floor by the seat farthest from the door. "Sit and fasten your seatbelt."

She did as told and as he pressed the runes on the pylon, she saw a pair of pylons extend from the floor and roof, meeting in the middle of the room and a gold ring fell downwards until it floated in the center. It began to spin as the pylon next to Harry melted back into the floor.

Then T'ryl's eyes widened at the spinning sensation and the nausea threatened to erupt.

And then the ride was over but the nausea remained. A knock on the door made Harry jump a little then a voice came through it. "It worked, Sire!"

Harry opened the door and found a very excited witch on the other side.

"Do you need antinausea medicine?" he asked.

"No," T'ryl said. "I will be fine momentarily."

"I had thought the portkey's spinning on a central post would not translate the spinning to the rest of the transit vehicle," Harry scowled. "But of course magic has its own ideas."

"It still worked," the witch reminded him. "And now we can transmit materiel much faster and safely. AND destroy toxic wastes much safer."

Harry nodded and the two left the transit room, collecting her things and placing them just outside it. Once they were out, Harry tapped a complex sequence on it with his wand and the room disappeared, back to its space in the castle.

"Please help T'ryl take her things to the Alcyone," Harry said. "I need to speak with Campbell before we depart."

"Yes, Sire!"

He heard the witch ask, "Do Vulcans have ice cream? Because I think a franchise from Fortescue's Fine Flavors would do well there," as he headed for the turbolift.

* * *

The trip from the Sirius system to Vulcan was a three day trip at warp three but it took closer to five due to a number of stops Harry wanted to make, including one where he met with a representative group of the Ferengi government.

As Harry spoke with the Ferengis, Landor—once again wearing her stripper persona, a face she was debating having surgically done as she preferred it over her own—and T'ryl were shopping.

"Lieutenant, thank you for helping me with this."

"You should call me by my given name, Rosalyn. And I love shopping."

"Very well. I find myself intrigued by human fashions and wish to purchase some specific types of clothing."

"We are on a trade planet so it's the best place to do it," she said. "What are we looking for?"

She took out her PADD and switched it to english then fixed a few items that didn't translate.

"Oh," Landor said, surprised at what she saw. "An LBD, various lingerie, and—do you know how to walk in high heels?"

"No, but I do not expect it to be too difficult."

"You probably won't. Why are you wanting all this?"

"Harry finds the aesthetics of this type of clothing and facial adornment intriguing. I wish to explore this aspect of human mating rituals. His wives' paintings were very helpful in telling me what type of items Harry finds… intriguing."

"I'm taking a Vulcan shopping for lingerie. This might be the most interesting day of my life after learning my sister was a witch."

"Have you ever worn any of these things?"

"Occasionally but the good stuff was too expensive for the expenses of an ensign. On the holodeck though, all the time. Jake and I and a couple others would pool our time so we could have a holodeck all night and simulate a nice hotel and the beach." Done properly, four or five couples could be on a holodeck and never see each other even when ten metres apart from each other.

They stopped in a store called Adoré first, run by a Betazed wearing a gold frilly halter blouse and a tight pinstripe pencil skirt, her legs encased in layered black and gold fishnet stockings, her shoes a pair of gold and black stilettos.

"I'm Adoré. How may I be of service?" she asked, a brilliant smile on her face.

"I wish to learn how to apply makeup in the human style."

"You're from the district that Kir is in?"

"Yes."

"That would explain the hair color and the slight Asian look to your eyes," she said.

Landor nodded. "That's what I kept seeing but not getting," she said. She peered closely at the Vulcan's eyes. "She's got gold flecks in her eyes, too. It's very pretty."

"My eye type is called the Ark of T'Sher. They are considered to be the most attractive as attested by a poll done thirty six years ago during the once-a-century aesthetics poll."

"Let's wash your face of your current makeup and I can show you a few human styles from day wear to night wear."

"What is the difference?" she asked as Adoré began applying the cream to remove her makeup.

"Day makeup is lighter, just to hide flaws. Night makeup is done to dazzle and be dramatic."

She touched a control and showed a human woman wearing various styles of makeup.

~•~

Harry placed a compulsion on the chest of dilithium he had brought—all low grade and more useful for industrial purposes—then picked up the PADD and changed a parameter of the contract and placed a compulsion on it. If the Ferengis wanted to try to cheat him, well turnabout was only fair play after all.

"Perhaps this might be more amenable."

The leader took it and read it, his eyes widening for a too long moment before he tried to make himself look disinterested. He passed it to his cohorts and they all soon looked like Harry was getting taken.

Harry was incredibly glad to see the compulsions worked as the Ferengis signed the contract, selling him ten thousand each of warp capable quantum, photon, and gravimetric torpedoes and fifty launchers that could be surface, base, or ship mounted as well as the remains of a device called an Echo Papa 607. He had tacked that on due to the price tag of it and wanting to really stick it to the Ferengis.

"My ship will be here tomorrow to take the weapons. The rest of the payment will be aboard. Your down payment."

He stood and left the Ferengis to cheer over how well they had cheated him.

When he returned to the Alcyone, he found a mountain of expensive looking bags in the small hold. He ignored them and went to the bridge. Empty. "Allie, is anyone here?"

"Those two came in, dropped off things they bought, then went back out. Your dangerously inept pilot said they would be back in time for dinner."

He ignored the comment. She wasn't as good as he was as a pilot but she was more than qualified to pilot his ship. "Anyone poking around the ship?"

"No, whatever you did has kept the criminal element away."

"It's called a Somebody Else's Problem jinx. Everyone sees the ship but they don't bother with it since it's not their problem."

"Good. I'm much too pretty to deal with them."

"Really glad you approve," he said, rolling his eyes. "I shall go as well. Darby?"

The house elf opened the small cabinet she liked to use for her sleeping quarters. "Yes Emperor Harry Potter Sire?"

He smiled. "Could you have the ingredients ready for me to prepare dinner for three. Red potatoes and bacta-steak, something that will go well with that."

"Yes Emperor Harry Potter Sire! I's gonna do it right now! Wine?"

"Yes, but you need to remove the alcohol from it without affecting the flavor again."

"Easy peasy Sire!"

"Off you go, then."

He smiled as she scampered off the bridge. She wasn't as fanatically loyal as Dobby but she was very good at her jobs and had been elected by all house-elves to be the personal house-elf to the Emperor. It also gave her the pick of mates when she was of age for that. He found it woefully unsurprising that house-elves were breeding themselves for more magic and more timidity but he planned to add something akin to the Vulcan Kahs Wan to their rites. He didn't want them to timid themselves into extinction.

~•~

Harry wandered, enjoying the jumja stick he had bought from a storefront that sold confectionaries. It had two colors on it, one red, the other orange. The orange side was very sweet while the red was tart and when both were licked, the averaged into mild sweetness that reminded Harry of Hermione's favorite treat, the blood orange soda.

Finally he found something that interested him personally. A tailor.

He didn't recognize the alien but the suits on display were well done, from various alien styles to a few contemporary Earth designs that he didn't find repulsive.

"Good afternoon, sir. I am Dixail. How may I be of service?"

"I'm in the mood for a new suit. Something classic Earth."

"Ahh, one of my favorite periods for couture, sir. Do you have preference of a specific style?"

"All my best suits were single breasted with a matching vest."

"Please, step this way. I prefer to measure by hand but I can scan if you prefer that."

"Measure away," Harry said. "The mildly embarrassing standing on a pedestal is part of the experience."

Dixail smiled wider. "Sir is right."

As the alien measured him, Harry pointed out the various elements of suit styles he preferred and was surprised to find the man stocked some of his favorite fabrics and had patterns for the same style of dressing robes he had used to make his combat robes. Dixail told him about his planet and people, Daliax and Dixail. "So you all go by your race as a name?"

"Yes. We all start as a spore that separates from our motherplant, a single organism taking up approximately forty percent of the surface." He removed his wig and peeled away a mask, revealing a translucent green head that looked like jello to Harry with a pair of eyes stuck into it and dentures and a tongue of fluidic silver. He placed the wig back in place then carefully affixed the mask. "We must wear alienform suits to mimic creatures like you or we revert to our most basic design, a large plop of goo."

"Cool," Harry said. "The eyes look like they're not standard issue?"

"Nor are the tongue and the teeth. The eyes grow on a tree on our world. We are in essence a distributed memory system, a brain made of goo. The teeth and tongue are just because I find them pretty."

Forty minutes later, Harry had nine new suits, six ties, five vests, a dozen pairs of socks, eight new shirts, combat robes in a sumptuous leather, a velour smoking robe, and a new smoking jacket ordered and paid for. "I shall ship them to you as soon as they're done," Dixail promised.

Harry handed over a card with his shipping data to the Sirius Spacedock then left, realizing he had only forty minutes to make dinner.

~•~

Harry stepped out of his shower and stopped. T'ryl lay on the bed wearing vintage lingerie he thought was derived from Agent Provocateur, the same style of garments Fleur loved when she wanted to feel sensual. The silvery color of the fabric was beautiful on her flawless slightly olive skin.

"These garments give little support but Rosalyn said that you would appreciate their aesthetics. It appears that you do."

Harry looked down at his tented trousers. "Yes, I do."

"Why is there no fabric over the nipples or vulva?"

"To allow access."

"But could not access be granted by removing them?"

"Sometimes leaving the wrapping on a gift while you enjoy it enhances the experience."

"Ahh, I believe I understand that meaning. Will you be enjoying me soon?"

"I hope we'll be enjoying each other. You look utterly consumable."

She looked somehow utterly pleased at the compliment without changing her expression at all.

"You should divest yourself of clothing and join me," she suggested.

~•~

"What made you buy lingerie?" he asked as they lay in bed afterwards.

"I spoke with the paintings of your wives. They both said that you greatly enjoy lingerie, especially the anticipation of knowing that your lover is wearing something frilly and aesthetically pleasing underneath their clothing, knowing that the apparel is only for your eyes.

"I found the idea illogical and the cost to be even more so but I believe I understand the appeal. As I tried on the apparel and reclothed myself, I did feel… different. I am unsure if I can quantify the feeling though."

"Perhaps if you wear more," he suggested.

"Yes, I believe this is an interesting experiment. Even if you said that for your own gratification."

He smiled and touched his fingers to hers.

"I believe that my gratification leads to your gratification."

"Yes. The endorphins, while releasable via other activities, are beneficial. I have not felt frustrated since we began though I often had to meditate on it while working at the Embassy."

"I think that's more having to deal with illogical beings. Even if you were having sex constantly during, the frustration of dealing with illogical beings would affect you."

"You are illogical. I prefer to spend my time with you."

"That's because there's great logic in my illogicalness," he teased.

"Yes," she said, so dryly it felt as if the room was the Sahara desert.

* * *

They received permission to land on the outskirts of Kir and once they passed customs—the official checked her name against the expected people arriving then allowed Harry and Landor on the planet without any checks, presuming that he was not smuggling contraband due to his companion and his Federation status. "Are you sure those robes are not too warm?" she asked. It was almost 47 celsius.

Harry smoothed his robes of state—black BDU trousers and a dark green blouse under a purple-black dragonskin cassock with gold scrolling on the sleeves and right collar and buttons made of emerald beetles dipped in gold, a black fascia with the Imperial symbol in gold, the symbol once used by Grindelwald to terrorize Europe was now the symbol of the line of Potter—and said, "They're charmed to keep me cool and I should wear proper clothing for this."

"It does look dignified," she said.

"Thanks. I wish it hadn't been designed to look like a priest's robes but admittedly, it's pretty cool looking."

"What do you mean? It looks like it would keep one warm."

"Slang from my youth. Cool was a catchall term that could mean dignified to edgy to dangerous though what looked cool on one person could look uncool on another. It was very subjective."

He tapped his glasses to darken the lenses. "Should we bring Darby along? She's never seen another planet before."

T'ryl turned back to look at the house-elf as she carefully peeked out, trying not to be seen.

"She is a sentient and free of disease. We will have to register her species with the government but due to your status, we can keep her off Federation records if she's listed as an endangered species."

"There are only fifty nine thousand of her people," Harry said.

"That would qualify.

"Darby, I'm going to scan you with my tricorder."

She nodded and held her arms out.

Five minutes later, they were back on the bridge of the ship, speaking with a xenobiologist.

"How many of her species are there?"

"Fifty-nine thousand, four hundred thirteen as of last census," Harry said. "Taken last month."

"What planet are they native to?"

"Earth but they fled the planet during the Eugenics wars with my people and are settled on my planet," Harry told him.

He made a notation. "Darby, your people are now registered with the Vulcan Science Directorate as an endangered sentient species as predated by Homo Sapien. Do you understand this?"

Harry whispered in her ear, though it was loud enough the xenobiologist heard it all and gave a short nod at Harry's summation in simpler english.

"Darby is understanding, Mister Sekul sir."

"The Directorate would like to discuss your subspecies as well, Captain Harry. Should you wish to apply for protections, you may be able to claim reparations for your people."

"I am currently hiring personnel to teach our people. A xenobiologist from the Directorate would be a welcome addition to the mission as long as they are willing to sign the NDA. Reparations are unnecessary, we just prefer to remain hidden from Humanity at large for now."

Sekul nodded. "Your entrance to the planet is now cleared, Darby. Documentation will be delivered soon. Please wait to leave the ship until it arrives."

When the documentation arrived, Darby wrote her name carefully on the small card then her image was captured and burned onto the card. She was now an official Alien visitor to Vulcan with a permanent work Visa. She thanked the Vulcan profusely who nodded serenely then left.

Darby stepped down onto the planet and tugged at her small robes as she looked around nervously but followed Harry and T'ryl to the waiting ground car.

When they arrived at her family's home, T'ryl performed the ancient family rites of return then Harry spoke the ritual greeting to her as she had instructed. "'Hail Stranger, I come from afar, bearing no weapons.' That must sound better in Vulcan." He had learned that a stranger was welcome while a neighbour was a potential enemy for a neighbour was reliant upon the same resources and after the cataclysm, there was little in the way of water and food. As the Vulcans evolved, the rituals remained the same though neighbours were no longer the enemy as replicators and technology had bridged the divides.

Darby did the same then scampered along the path of their garden, utterly entranced by the desert succulents and sand garden now no longer hidden behind a privacy fence.

A large avian watched Darby until T'ryl said, "Kora."

The bird flew and landed on her shoulder, making the woman sag from its weight. "Harry, this is Kora, she's a Lara bird. My father found her during his Kahs Wan near the end and elected to use his last ounce of water to nurse her back to life. She's never left our home since." She stroked the bird's neck, making it shiver in pleasure it seemed to Harry.

The bird brought her wings up and Harry realized she easily had a nine foot wing span that had joints that made each wing look like a W.

"Fascinating," he said, holding his fingers out.

She nibbled on them slightly then took flight, back to her perch in the garden.

"Hello, daughter," a voice said. Harry and Darby turned, surprise on their faces while T'ryl turned, raising an eyebrow minutely.

"Father, you are home. I did not expect you to be so for another one point four hours."

"I am packing for a short speaking engagement in Shikahr. I will be there for three point two days. It is very agreeable to see you again. We were somewhat startled to receive your messages of delays."

"I apologize," Harry said. "My duties required me to perform functions that slowed her as she elected to travel with me."

"Father, this is my new employer, Captain Harry X of the Planet Potter's Rock in the Alpha Canis Majoris as it is known by humans. And this is Darby, a citizen of Potter's Rock and a servant in Harry's household. Harry, Dobby, my Father Sonar of the house of Suran."

"I am unfamiliar with the Planet Potter's Rock.

"You are welcome to our home, Captain Harry X and Darby. Please, it is a moderate day on Vulcan, enter and take refreshment."

As Harry and Sonar sat and T'ryl went for refreshments, Darby looked nervously at the couch. "Darby, you may stand or sit as you prefer. You are a guest here, you need not clean or wait upon me," Harry told the house-elf. "But if you must have your hands busy, I suggest knitting something."

"Yes Emperor Harry Potter Sire!"

The house-elf began crocheting a tea cozy with the supplies she kept in her messenger bag.

"Emperor?"

"A cruel joke played upon me upon returning after accidental exile."

Before anything else could be said, she returned with refreshments, a fruit juice with a red jumja stick to stir it with as it settled quickly, she explained then sat next to him, her father's eyebrow rising slightly at how close she sat though nothing else was betrayed.

"The protocol of a visitor need not be maintained," Sonar said. "It is unfair to expect those not born to something to maintain it. What brings you to Vulcan. And do you prefer Captain or Emperor?"

"Harry is preferable. My people were escaping persecution three centuries ago, during the Eugenics Wars. We no longer want to be in hiding, therefore we are looking for instructors to help us integrate our own ways with the ways of the Federation without having to do too much with Earth. We are still reticent about humanity at large."

"How do you differ from Humanity?"

T'ryl presented her father with the NDA. He signed it.

Harry stood and disappeared then reappeared next to him before apparating to behind the couch he had sat on. He held his hand out and fire began to engulf his hand before he made a fist and it went out. "Those are the parlor tricks of our people."

"Theirs is a world of magic, father. Dragons, creatures unable to fly due to their wings being too small, yet they fill the air. Unicorns with silver blood, winged lions with the heads of eagles. All the beasts of fantasy of Earth are beings these people grow up with. Their greatest technology is concrete because they use magic for everything else."

"Fascinating," he said, deciding to leave alone the argument against magic. His daughter was a Vulcan and therefore if she believed what she saw then magic would be the proper term for now. "How do you plan to do this?"

"Magitek is a term for the melding of magic and technology or the aping of technology via magic. or vice versa. This is our goal. We have a two billion population and if necessary, I will institute Selective Service with a decade requirement if we cannot field a group large enough to maintain a fleet of ships."

"Can you demonstrate more?"

"What would you like to see?"

"Change something inanimate into something animate?"

The cushion on the couch began to dance while the vase holding a centrepiece turned into a tabby cat that leapt into his lap. "I can feel its emotions," Sonar said.

"It's alive until the spell wears off or I reverse it. Darby, do you want to demonstrate your magic?"

The house-elf put down her needles and snapped her fingers, making all items in the house begin to float then she set to cleaning.

"That demonstration will be enough," Harry told her. "The reason I wanted Vulcans is because they apply logic. And while Logic has often been shown to be useless when combined with Magic, sometimes bruteforce gets things done."

"And Vulcans are more likely to continue down a path until all avenues are exhausted," Sonar finished to Harry's nod. "Fascinating.

"I am a Professor of Applied Genetics and her mother is a botanist."

"Herbology is the study of plants on my world, which are used in the field of Potionmaking."

Harry removed a vial and held it up. "This is a bruising removal potion. Please, strike me so that you break capillaries but not bones."

Sonar hesitated. "You are a guest."

"As a guest, I request you strike me."

"Very well." He struck.

Harry winced. "Excellent. As you see, you've broken the vessels."

Sonar nodded.

Harry rubbed the ointment on. The vessels were repaired instantly and the blood faded back into his body.

He took another potion and his hair instantly grew eleven inches longer.

"May I borrow your tricorder?" he asked his daughter.

She handed it over and he ran a diagnostic then scanned Harry's arm where struck and his hair. "No nanotechnology. I am convinced. Fascinating.

"I wish to partake in this educational experience."

"I thought you would, father. I also wish to discuss something else."

He believed he knew what she was about to say. "Perhaps we should wait for your mother to return?"

"Where is she?"

She has been taking part in a dig in the Forge and will return tomorrow. I believe now would be a good time for dinner. As I have not enough food in the house, we shall dine in the city. Please call Water Café, daughter. They serve human food as well due to its proximity to the University," he added, turning to Harry.

"Master, Darby can return to Allie?"

"Of course you may. I ripped my jeans, would you repair them?"

She smiled excitedly and bounced up and down as she nodded then disappeared.

"Hers is a subservient race?"

"They're descended from a creature called a kobold. No one knows if we've bred them to be subservient or if they were like that since the beginning. Trying to give them freedom they will just lay down and die. But while there were laws to protect them, no one enforced them. So when they arrived, they made them property of one person and leased them out for a small fee to homes where the elves wanted to work."

"They have a seating for us in the time it will take us to arrive walking," T'ryl said upon reentering the room.

"Very well, let us go."

As they walked, T'ryl pointed out various places of renown along the path, including the park where she first decided to study xenopolitics. "I decided I would then join the diplomatic corps. I expected to end up on a Colony world as an aide or on a Deep Space station in a mission, helping process visitation and education applications. My appointment to earth as an aide nine years ago was as much a surprise as it was an honor."

"She was the youngest to be sent to Earth and the youngest to attain the rank of Deputy-Ambassador. She has brought great honor to her family.

"And depending on how the educational process for your people go, her work there could bring even greater honor," Sonar said, a potential hint of pride evident in his voice.

~•~

That evening, Sonar went to prepare the guest room. His daughter moved to stop him. "Father, the guest room is unnecessary."

"The proximity with which you sat next to him made me believe this might be fact. I am gratified my ability to read a situation remains but please tell me why you have elected to bond with a human without your family there."

"We are not bonded, father. But this is my taking an interest in your field. I have decided to bear a child with Harry, in hopes of creating a child of both our cultures and abilities."

"This is a path that may be fraught with much pain, little one."

T'ryl paused for a moment at a name she had not been called in decades. "I understand father and while I did not think as long on this as other things, I do believe this is a proper course. And though I am young, I believe I am ready."

"You are young but you are intelligent and have very rarely made poor choices. I shall support you in this. May I ask why there is no Bonding?"

"As he is the emperor of his people, I believe that there would be issues for him to take a nonmage wife. I have these books for you to peruse, father. These are the same books I read.

"I watched them take an arm that had been torn off and savaged by a beast called a Manticore and pouring a few potions on it then placed it back on the person. In less than two days, the man was back on light duty. His pilot was medically retired from Starfleet due to unrecoverable injuries including both legs and one arm lost. She is now whole."

"I concur, a child with one of their people is an intriguing idea. But you did this for more than scientific reasons, I pray."

"Yes. he is a good man even considering the things you will read about him in those books."

"Then I shall read. Sleep well, my little one."

"Father, why have you called me little one twice?"

"Only to remind you that while I know you are a Vulcan of age, you will also always be the youngest of my children."

"Yes father. Sleep well," she quirked her lips a moment, "daddy."

A quirk of his lips and a twinkle in his eyes then he turned, already reading the muggleborn guide.

~•~

Tiana came home and set her valise on the floor then breathed in. She looked to the sehlat who had followed her in. "It is agreeable to be home, is it not?"

The animal ignored her and instead headed for the feed and water bowls, placing his head under the sensor to activate both. The bowls filled and he began eating, ignoring everything else.

"You are a greedy thing," she said then carried the valise to the small pantry where the sonic cleanser sat next to the supplies of extra food. She noticed that it was low and made a mental note to purchase dry stores the next time she was out.

She undressed and walked naked through the home then stopped. "Oh, hello," the strange human said, turning his back to her and stripping off his robe and handing it towards her.

"Who are you? Why are you in my home?"

"Harry Potter? I hired your daughter as my agent? Your husband invited me to stay."

"She has returned then. I apologize, I had no idea anyone was here besides myself and my husband potentially."

"Your husband and T'ryl have gone out to shop. I was here doing some paperwork."

"I shall go dress and you can tell me about the job she has taken."

~•~

Harry watched her go and smirked. _T'ryl's mom has got it going on_, he thought, trying not to snicker aloud. He turned to look at the Sehlat that was now watching him now that he had eaten.

"Hello," he said.

It ambled over and rubbed against him. "You're adorable, you know that? You're like a bear dog with saberteeth. it's awesome!"

the sehlat was now on his lap, making a semi-purring sound as he scratched the beast's ears.

"His name is Ba'ku. He's usually not so willing to socialize with strangers."

"Animals usually recognize that I am their superior in every way. Down, Ba'ku." The Sehlat did as told, watching Harry.

He stood and nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said as she handed his robe back.

"Your robe is very supple for animal leather. What does the symbol mean?"

"It's three items; a wand, a cloak, and a jewel; all created by an ancestor and his brothers. They're all symbols of the fear of death."

"Fascinating. Why are they then your family's symbol?"

"It's punishment and when all three are combined, the wielder is said to be the Master of Death."

"Do they actually exist?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Years ago I attained them all."

"Do you believe yourself to be the Master of Death?"

"Only in my nightmares."

Before she could reply, T'ryl and Sonar entered the house. "Mother!"

_"T'ryl, it is most agreeable to see you again. Your time on Earth has seemed to serve you well."_

"English mother."

"Yes, of course."

"Come, I have questions I must ask, mother."

~•~

T'ryl and Tiana walked out the back door of their home, followed by Ba'ku.

T'ryl tossed a heavy stick and watched the Sehlat chasing it.

"What did you wish to speak of?"

She began to speak quickly, telling her mother everything though leaving out the details of the more private moments she shared with Harry but mentioning they happened.

"While I do not approve of an unBonded relationship, you are your own person," Tiana said, "and if this human is one with which you wish to procreate, I accept your decision. I suggest you send a letter to your cousin Spock and ask for his advice. Cousin Sarek would also be an excellent resource as he is a father of a hybrid human-vulcan though his illness would make me reticent to contact him."

She nodded then asked, "Mother, I have a question about sex."

"My knowledge is your knowledge."

"Harry and I are, of course, as I just told you. When he sleeps, he transmits rather strongly. His people have a form of telepathy, though it is eye-to-eye. In his dreams, I have seen his interests in lingerie."

"Ahh. Lingerie is an interesting phenomenon. I own many pieces myself."

She turned to her mother, ignoring Ba'Ku's headbutts. "You do?"

"Lingerie, when well-crafted helps to create anticipation. The removal of it piece by piece adds to the titillation. Your father has purchased me a number of pieces and I purchase something once a year for our birthday congresses."

T'ryl nodded. "I purchased some while we stopped on a Trade Planet where he was doing business with ferengis."

"What kind of business?"

"Purchasing armaments for the spacedock and the cargo ships he purchased for his system and planet."

"Fascinating. How is he able to afford a spacedock?"

"He has one hundred percent ownership of a planet with major dilithium deposits. He's used nearly all of the money he's earned from it for the betterment of his people."

"That is excellent to hear. Back to the lingerie."

"I purchased numerous pieces, spending nearly fifty percent of what I've made as his agent so far. In total eleven different sets from no complexity to great complexity, including something called a corset which was extremely uncomfortable to wear and something made of synthetic leather called a harness strap dress. It makes me feel… sensuous when worn."

Tiana nodded. "Yes. Lingerie does the same for myself. I have worn lingerie to a family dinner with your paternal grandparents before. That was the night you were conceived in the back of a groundcar. A rather illogical place to allow passions to consume us but it happened."

"So the sensations are normal. Then I shall meditate on this."

Tiana nodded again. "It is strange though, lingerie usually comes later in a relationship for humans, when their relationship is less stable due to emotional issues from what I've been informed."

"Harry is different than most humans. Now we must discuss something different. Please accept that father has accepted this after seeing proof. But you must sign this NonDisclosure Agreement." She explained the blood issue.

Her mother nodded and signed, looking at the finger it took blood from. "Continue."

She began to speak, her mother raising an eyebrow every so often.

"Fascinating."

~•~

Tiana placed the book down. She found the information to be sensational but her daughter had been to the world written of and her husband had seen proof of elements. The potions and herbology fascinated her. Her husband had informed her he had expressed interest in joining the mission.

She took out her PADD and looked at her plans for the next decade. Much of it could be delayed for as long as the mission to Potter's Rock took.

Her daughter and Harry were currently reviewing applicants—she looked out and an eyebrow quirked. It seemed her daughter was at work while Harry was wrestling with Ba'Ku. She wondered why T'ryl did not stop them. The Sehlat was strong enough to accidentally injure a creature as frail as most humans.

She pulled her robes on over her lounge wear and stepped outside.

"Do you not worry Ba'Ku may injure him?"

"He's used spells to protect himself. I've seen the same spells stop a strike from a much larger creature."

She nodded. "Do you not think he should help?"

"I was hired to do this. His job will be to prove to those I choose to hire."

"Excellent, you are not emotionally impaired. I approve of your relationship and look forward to grandchildren. Delen is an excellent choice but your aunt T'kar is more skilled and is nearly done at University."

"She has accepted a position at the Vulcan Science Directorate working on her latest hypothesis. I spoke to her last night. She asked me to tell you she thinks of you often. I reminded her it would be illogical for her sister not to."

Tiana bowed her head, not revealing the amusement that statement brought.

"Mother, have you ever heard of a study of facial muscles to see if all vulcans have the same micro-expressions? I thought we had but it is not in the public archives."

"I have not but it is likely we would."

She handed over the PADD with the Facial Action Coding theory on it and her mother began to read.

"Intriguing. I shall forward this to the archivists at the Science Academies, there may be an equivalent from our history."

"Harry has offered to cook dinner tonight."

"Does he have a menu? I will go get the ingredients."

"Darby will deliver them in time for him to prepare."

There was quiet as T'ryl continued working and Tiana observed Harry and Ba'Ku though their grunts and Harry's occasional laughter was audible until a pair of young vulcans approached Harry. One of the children was petting the Sehlat as they spoke then the four began walking back towards the two females.

"Aunties," the boys said as they got closer. "Live long and prosper, Captain Harry," the boys then said and gave the hand sign before one last pat for the Sehlat.

"Aunties?" Harry asked. "Actual relations or honorifics?"

"Honorifics," Tiana said. "What did they ask you?"

They informed me a group of children would be using the field in minutes for a scheduled game."

Harry settled on the ground and Ba'Ku sat next to him, the two watching the children line up for what looked like Lacrosse until it began. There were instances of ritualized combat when they fought for control of the ball then the victor would perform what looked like a kata. The adults watching scored the events.

"Is this practice for something else interspersed with a game?" Harry asked.

"Yes, the netsticks are used as lirpas and the dance afterwards are cultural relics. The game is to gain the necessary exercise."

After the game ended, the children were lined up and began performing a synchronized kata.

"Which team won? Your numbers are too subtly close."

"The team that was stationed on the right side," Tiana said. "While they scored better in the netball portion, that score is discounted as the lirpa and dance are the important aspects."

~•~

Three weeks had passed and now Harry and T'ryl stood in front of fifty-seven Vulcans interested in the position and willing to sign the NDAs.

The death stick slid into his hand as he turned and looked out onto the Forge, the great desert.

"MAL-ig-nisss!" Harry snapped, his wand and will feeding the flame that grew in front of him, the fire growing, burning hotter and hotter, the heat now enough that the sand below the flame was now glass.

The vulcans in the stands had their tricorders out, scanning the flame.

The fire took shape, a massive dragon spreading its wings, fighting at Harry's control. Basilisks attempted to escape over the ground as gryffins attempted to fly away.

Harry pressed them back into the great flame dragon and sent them out into the desert, snaking a path along the ground, writing in the sand by turning it to glass.

His will forced the flame back into a flicker and then it was gone.

He tossed a magical drone into the air—the Forge caused even Vulcan technology to fail often—and it transmitted his image of what he had written back to a large mirror. Tehsat. It meant illusion or deception emotionally but at its base, the word was the translation of magic.

"I presume other demonstrations will be required."

They were. One Vulcan asked him to transfigure a living being into something else.

"I am uncomfortable testing magic on Vulcans at this time."

Another Vulcan raised her hand. "I am terminally ill and have less than three years. I give you permission to demonstrate on me."

"What's your illness?" Harry asked.

"A hereditary degenerative lung disease."

"Darby, service!" he called.

The house-elf appeared and looked around at all the Vulcans looking at him curiously.

"Retrieve my potions bag."

He disappeared and reappeared holding the bag.

A flick of his wand and the woman was a Sehlat. The Vulcans checked their tricorders.

He changed her back then dug through it until he found a vial with a silver flecks suspended in a dark blue liquid and pulled out a golden potion that moved like warm treacle.

"Take the blue then the gold. The blue heals infections and the gold is a general healing potion."

Other Vulcans scanned the woman and verified she had Ji'lara's Confliction then scanned the potions.

Three minutes later, the latest scan revealed her progression of the disease was reversed and now in stage two instead of stage five. At the seven minute mark, she was effectively healed.

Magic was no longer being dismissed but it wasn't accepted as the answer yet. But all elected to join the mission.

The vulcan he had cured waited to speak to him.

"I am in debt to you."

"I only ask you do not discuss how you were cured with your healers." Medical reasons trumped the NonDisclosure portion of the Agreement.

"There are nine other sufferers of this illness on the planet."

"I don't have any more of those potions on me but if they wish to travel to Sirius and accept a short term work contract," Harry mused aloud. "Does Vulcan have a history of indentured servants?"

"Yes, as does Earth. It would require a scrupulously fair contract."

"Our contracts are impossible to break on either side."

She nodded. "I shall contact those with the illness as all save one are relatives."

"If it's hereditary, wouldn't the one not related have to be related?"

"Spontaneous genetic mutation."

Harry nodded. "I am glad you will have more time. Thank you for surviving the attempt to treat you."

She quirked an eyebrow then realized he was being humorous and gave a slight nod.

As soon as they were gone, T'ryl approached and touched her fingers to his. His capture of her lower lip with his teeth was not protested then it turned into a long kiss.

"It went well."

"Better than I thought it would," Harry said. "Someone terminally ill and potentially cured?"

"Potentially?"

"It's hereditary. She may relapse."

* * *

A Vulcan shipping company offered to sell Harry an older carrier with modular components for one slip of latinum.

He had been surprised to be contacted by them until the Vulcan on his screen explained that his mother had told him her illness was gone and she had accepted a new job with Harry. While she had been unable to disclose the particulars, enough got by that the Vulcan wished to express his gratitude with a ship that was being phased out. Now, waiting in orbit above them was a T'Pol'Kain cargo freighter with two modules replaced with passenger modules, enough for his new employees to transit comfortably at warp seven.

"Why is THIS being phased out?" Harry asked. The freighter was immaculate and even more impressive than the Enterprise had been somehow.

"New freighters capable of atmospheric entry have been designed. Modular drops or beam downs are considered less than optimal," T'ryl said as they toured the vessel.

Their guide nodded. "If you are looking for a captain, my contract is up in four months," the guide said.

"Please make sure I have your contact information." He nodded and left them to continue their tour alone. As soon as he was gone, Harry asked, "Want to help me christen the ship?"

"The ship has already gone through a naming ceremony. It translates to In Harmony All Are Brought to One."

"That's not what I mean," he said and kissed her.

"Oh," she said when he pulled away. "Innuendo.

"We do not have time as my parents and siblings expect us for dinner." He chuckled. "Why do you laugh?"

He nodded his head and she turned to see her eldest sister and brother-in-law, fingers intertwined as they approached.

"T'Ral, Koren," T'ryl said.

Harry nodded.

"Mother tried to contact you but you did not bring your comm device. Dinner will be served in eleven minutes."

T'ryl and T'ral walked off ahead leaving Koren with Harry. "So, how about that local sports team?" he asked.

Koren looked at him with a mildly raised eyebrow. "Human joke. when two males who don't know each other are left alone, sports or the weather are usually their only common denominator. I don't know vulcan sports but your climate is invariable to humans."

Koren nodded. "They need to hire a new coach."

Harry grinned.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mother," T'ryl said as Ba'Ku sniffed his way into the room then leapt on her bed.

"Daughter," she replied as she stepped into the quarters. "Why are you not on the yacht with Harry?"

"He has no space for anyone else aboard. He had an idea and is studying Vulcan alloys."

"Why did he not work on this ship?"

"This ship is not protected from his magic. A demonstration of a minor spell showed that significant damage happened to unprotected systems: the more complicated a device, the more damage it took. It is why he wanted Vulcans to help with the combination of magicks and technology: he believes we will be able complement a mage's more scattershot techique with our logical approaches."

"Logical to seek out a balancing viewpoint," she said, sitting and cuddling the sehlat. "Your father said you wish to speak with me?"

"Yes, the night before we left, I was speaking with my sisters. Of their bonding ceremonies and how their senses of self and others changed."

"Please elaborate."

She pushed her work away and turned to look at her mother. "I believe Harry and I may have Bonded by accident."

~•~

Harry was very glad of the refit to his quarters on the yacht. Instead of a small bedroom as it had been, they had removed one of the other quarters and turned the expanded area into a synthdeck, a Vulcan version of a holodeck. Instead of holograms, replicators were used to synthesize most objects with hard light holograms making up the other elements that couldn't be synthesized. Now he had a bedroom that if he lost ship power would remain a bedroom. But if he wanted a forge or a lab of some sort, he could have that as well. Right now he had the magical version of a forge though improperly equipped. He was having to make do with his wand instead of dragon fire to make metal alloys and form a sword.

After hours of hammering, twisting, pulling, and folding, the blade was nearly finished. He shaved another millimeter off the side he planned to serrate then put it back in the forge.

~•~

The finished blade was nearly a meter long with blood red fullers due to their thinness. Where the metal was thickest, it took on a black with red reflective layer, almost like obsidian. Like most metallic glasses, the blade was heavier than it seemed like it should be.

He placed it in the boiling liquid copper and stepped back as the steam erupted. The blade was to be slowly lowered in heat from 2590c to 1085c then it would go into oil for the last tempering to room temperature.

~•~

He put the hiltless blade on a sheet of dragonskin and wrapped it up then set it aside. It was good and a fine gift once he finished the hilt.

He looked at his clock. One more day to Potter's Rock.

Harry tapped the comm badge. "Potter to T'ryl."

"Hello, Harry. How is your project progressing?"

"I just realized we're only a day away. I would not mind if you returned to the ship. My project's completion can wait."

"I am currently in the middle of a project that will not complete for another fourteen hours."

"Then I'll see you on the planet."

"Acknowledged," she replied.

Harry closed the comm and pouted. He felt rather bad but it was his fault she was on the freighter instead of aboard the yacht.

He left the room to sleep in the guest bedroom and fell back onto his bedding, unsurprised to find Darby had fixed up the room though he had been surprised by an early birthday gift from Landor in the form of sumptuous tholian silk sheets, a xindi woollen comforter, and mogai down pillows and a new bed for his quarters, big enough for two people instead of the twin size bed he and T'ryl had been sharing when she stayed the night—due to the size of the bed she often would come to his quarters to have sex then go back to her own quarters to sleep.

He resisted the urge to rub one out but let himself continue fantasizing about her in the bandage dress she had purchased, the thin polymer transparent enough he had been able to count the moles on her body when light hit it just right, the fabric so thin that she had worn nothing underneath it. The design had dozens of straps with buckles that held the bandages in place until they were undone, letting it fall away slowly until only the harness and cups remained with one last buckle holding them in place.

He remembered her studying herself in the mirror and saying she could not go out in such an item.

He had ran his hands along her head and she shivered as his fingers touched her ears.

She turned to look at him and he kissed her then nodded at the mirror. T'ryl looked back at the mirror and saw a new face looking at hers, a dark skinned human woman with platinum hair. "But this woman could go out in that dress if she wishes to."

"When Lieutenant Landor wore her disguise, I saw something strange. This does not have that same issue."

"That was a glamour combined with minor physical changes because she kept complaining about the size of her tits while we were discussing her glamour. This is a very careful transfiguration combined with a color changing charm. If you scratch off the two top layers of skin you'll see your original color.

"We need to see why you saw something strange, though."

She touched her ears. Her pinnae was no longer pointed.

T'ryl nodded and pulled on low dennier stockings and the amber colored stilettos she had purchased then had him change the color of the dress to match the shoes.

They had gone out for dinner and a play and when they returned, she had set to immediately writing down her thoughts about the actions until Harry had begun kissing the back of her neck, distracting her.

Harry smiled as he remembered that evening. She had even smiled during dinner, rather winningly. She had informed him she had been a member of a troupe of Vulcans who performed plays from their past as a child and had won two awards for her portrayal of Surak's closest friend who espoused his friend's ideals but would not give up emotions and joined 'Those Who Marched Beneath The Raptor's Wings.'

She had told him how vulcan actors were trained in an almost Shakespearean way to display emotions in ways that were exaggerated greatly in what most people thought were for the nonVulcan audiences.

Harry shook off the thought and pulled the covers over himself and shed his trousers and tunic, shoving them out the bottom of his bed.

~•~

He was awoken by Allie's voice. "Get up! We're here!"

Harry rolled over and muttered something rude about Allie's mother.

"My mother was a saint you bastard," she replied. A hologram of a young blonde woman appeared next to her. "Haley is a saint!"

"Fine, your mother is a saint," Harry muttered, getting up. "Wait, who is Haley?"

"She is my creator's holographic assistant and did a significant portion of my programming."

"So a hologram helped create a hologram?"

"Yes."

"Is there going to be a holographic goo incident?"

She made a snort, threw him an obscene gesture that would cause a Klingon to swear a blood feud on her family, then left his room as he imagined holograms replicating and consuming worlds to create more holograms and all that would remain would be holographic star systems.

He shuddered and dressed.

As he stepped on the bridge, he saw Captain Campbell on the screen. "Hey, Captain Harry. Welcome back. The quarters for your people are ready and we've taken receipt of a Erewon class transport ship to use to ferry people back and forth from here to the planet. We're building a storage facility on the planet to help hide the reason for so many trips up and down for storing foodstuffs and the like that may be helpful to the colonies on the planet and make sense to have the facility."

"Good thinking," Harry said. "Once we finish the mass transports it may become pointless."

"We'll figure out something to do with it, I'm sure."

Harry nodded. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Yeah, actually. A runabout suffered a total meltdown in their command pathways and was drifting for nearly three days before they got a distress signal off. One of our freighters towed them back here. We're rebuilding them and let their ship know we brought them in."

"Federation runabout? Think we should charge them for the work?"

Campbell laughed. "Your dock is ready to receive you."

A few minutes later, Harry was stepping onto the station.

As he waited by the docking section for his new Vulcan ship, he gave the same orders for the last set of ships: strip it, repaint it, and in this case, arm it. The Vulcan freighter had only one pair of particle cannons. He wanted seven phaser banks and five torpedo banks on each of his ships with galaxy class shields.

~•~

Forty minutes later, he was walking with the Vulcans to the waiting briefing room on the Fiesta Deck. Harry made a mental note to chew Campbell out for the deck names. The ships were docked on the BIG Black Deck.

Harry spent twenty minutes with the Vulcans, informing them that until the new village was completed, they were be working and living on the Spacedock on the Presto Chango Deck.

"I'm going to kill Campbell," he muttered aloud as he and T'ryl left the briefing room.

"I don't understand."

"Every deck of the Spacedock is named after some sort of pop culture reference from my era. Fiesta Deck is a—well, probably a—reference to Fleur's favorite cartoon. Big Black Deck is a reference to penises. And Presto Chango is an old term that muggle illusionists used as their magic word."

"Perhaps copulation would improve your mood."

Harry turned his head to look at her. "Of course it wo—"

"Harry?!"

He turned. "Johnny!"

The Lieutenant approached and gave Harry a quick hug. "How are you? How's Allie?"

"She's fine. Johnny, this is T'ryl, my—is girlfriend a term you accept?"

"Yes."

"T'ryl, this is Lieutenant Johnny Eclipse, the brother of one of my flight instructors."

"She is the one that enjoyed it when you—"

Harry's hand descended on her mouth. "Male humans react poorly to people discussing their sister's sex lives."

"You and my sister? Really? I always thought she was asexual."

Harry raised an eyebrow, both from the statement and T'ryl licking his palm. He pulled his hand away.

"Anyway, I don't really care who she does. It's good to see you."

"It was your runabout?" Harry asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, I was being transferred to my new duty assignment on the Yorktown back at Utopia Planitia. Captain Campbell said I should be leaving this evening."

"You and the Lieutenant can have dinner together," T'ryl said. "I will help settle in the—colonists to await their ship."

Harry nodded. Good truthful lie, he thought. "Very well. C'mon, Johnny, I'll tell you some lies and buy you a drink."

They ended up in a self-service bar with no view.

"Ever seen Ten-Forward on the Enterprise?" Harry asked, looking around the bar.

"Only in pictures. They could definitely run a nice bar around here for visitors."

Harry nodded and turned the conversation to his sister, finding out she was now stationed on a training ship, teaching Firsties how to pilot actual runabouts around the Sol System.

"Lieutenant?"

Eclipse turned and nodded at the ensign who had approached them. "Yes?"

"I just finished the diagnostics on their repairs, we're good to go."

He tossed off the rest of his drink.

"Tell Alexis I said hi, okay?" Harry requested.

"Of course. Later."

The two shook hands then Harry wandered down to the Presto Chango Deck, wondering if that name counted as a Hate Crime.

* * *

Guinan sat the coffee and tea down for Picard and Riker. "Sit," Picard said. "We're going over Ten-Forward right now."

She sat down, gesturing a server over. "Aldarean Firetea."

"Right away, Guinan."

As they waited for her tea, Riker opened the file on Ten-Forward. "Your requisitions are down eleven percent but other recreational reqs are up nine. Any idea?"

"I've been working through my backlog," she told him as the drink was delivered. "I was ordering an extra bottle every time I restocked. Now I'm cleaning out the warehouse. I have a new supplier for my non-replicable supplies."

Another server came over. "Guinan, you have a comm waiting. From off-ship."

She furrowed her brow for a moment. "Really?"

"Take it here," Riker said, "if you'd like."

She nodded and he spun his computer towards her. Guinan flipped the system to the comm channel in Ten-Forward and saw Harry X on the screen. "Guinan, it's Harry X."

"I remember, Harry. I heard you've been buying up cargo ships."

"Yeah, creating a little shipping concern. I also purchased a Spacedock and I was hoping you know a good bartender to run a pub here for me, maybe a nightclub. Right now it's got an autodispense bar here, it's pretty ugly."

"So you didn't find your people?" she asked. "And yes, I do know a few people that would be interested."

"I did but they're electing to stay hidden from the humans still."

"Oh, uh, Riker and Picard just heard that."

"Hey, Will. Hi, Captain," Harry said. "Please don't tell anyone yet. I'm working on getting them to come out but fear," Harry half-lied.

She turned the computer and Riker smiled. "Hey kiddo." She shifted it more and Picard was in the field. "Harry. I see you're doing well."

"For a post-scarcity society, luxuries still command a pretty huge price," Harry said.

Picard nodded.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about purchasing some of your grape seed. I understand Chateau Picard has its own varietal for your icewines."

"Yes, it's a hybrid. And for a crate of your first harvest to lay down in my cellar I'll arrange for two hectare's worth."

"Deal. Should I just swing by your family's chateau next time I'm on Earth?"

Picard nodded and turned the computer back to Guinan.

"I'll have them send you their CVs," she said as Harry looked away then ducked as a bird landed on his shoulder.

"Gotta go," he told her as he looked back. "T'ryl, your parents are inviting us to dinner," he said in Vulcan before cutting off the connection.

"Is—is he dating a Vulcan?" Riker asked, both eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. "My hero!"

"You're married to two incredibly beautiful women," Guinan reminded him.

"Please, you've been around long enough to know that means I never win arguments, threesomes are rare as hen's teeth, and I spend all my discretionary pay on high-end chocolate."

Guinan grinned.

"Speaking of post-scarcity," Picard said. "Did you read the new replicator research?"

"On recombinant replication?" Using dozens of replicators in synch to synthesize alloys. "It may lead to new resources for the post-transuranic alloys required to build reactor cores, right?" Riker asked. "Geordi went on and on and on and on and on—OW!" Guinan had smacked him.

"Sorry, you were caught in a recursion loop."

Picard couldn't help but laugh at Riker's expression. Everyone in Ten-Forward turned to see the captain laughing so hard he was about to fall out of his seat it seemed.

* * *

Harry watched Cirillia and the festival princesses and lords as they did the Maypole dance, a record number of five hundred and twelve and finally the year that Cyrillia was old enough to participate by rite instead of just because of her status.

She waved at him and he smiled then gave a little nod that came off much to regal for his tastes.

He just thanked Merlin that Hermione didn't make sure he had a crown. _Vindictive witch_, he thought.

He looked over to where the Vulcans sat, observing the event. Nearly all had come, interested in seeing an actual medieval fête.

The customized tricorders worked on overtime as they scanned various events throughout the day.

The dance ended and he stood, leading the clapping.

As soon as she could, Cirillia ran over to him and bounced on her heels. "Happy Birthday, grandpa!"

She hugged him tightly then dashed off before he could say anything.

He shook his head then accepted the goblet of pumpkin wine from the assistant that came up behind him. "Sire. The heads of the Vulcans wishes to speak with you."

Harry gestured the seven Vulcans over, the oldest members of the contingent.

"Emperor," one said that Harry finally remembered as Svorn. "As we are here, we thought we could see the buildings as they are now."

Harry nodded. "I believe it's at seventy percent completion. Come, the nearest subrail entrance is near here."

As soon as he said subrail, a contingent of Aurors went into a flurry of action. The goblins ran the subrail and institutionally hated Harry Potter.

They went in at three aurors per person traveling in Harry's retinue. One hundred twenty people in total.

"This is ridiculous," Harry muttered.

"Why so many?" Svorn asked.

"The Goblins hate me. I gave them a new world to live in, all the laws against them repealed, they still control our economy, and they still hate me," Harry told him. "Someday they're going to make me regret saving their lives, I just know it."

"To protect life—"

Harry cut him off. "To protect life that will end up destroying more lives is foolish. I hope I do not become that fool. I'm already a fool for so many other reasons."

Svorn nodded. "Truer words have been spoken but many falser words as well. Your world is very beautiful."

"I think you'll like the villages. We took our designs and melded them with vulcan aesthetics."

The trip through the subrail platform was quick.

When they emerged, they were on the southern continent where a building with seven tubes extending to the horizon were.

"This is the hottest continent on the planet though it'll be a cold spring day for your people at about 38 celsius on average."

"Yes, we appreciate the thought."

"This building is a new above-ground transport, getting you to the lab and the academy in about thirty minutes."

"Then this travels at approximately twelve thousand kilometers per hour?"

Harry smiled. "No, though we did think about that. Instead, each tube is a close-circuit floo. The car inside the tube is accelerated along the tube, shunted through a fire, then you arrive on the other side."

"An excellent use of your technology but why have the tube extend along the full path?" another Vulcan asked.

"If the floo goes down, it _will_ accelerate to twelve thousand kilometers per hour. We've tested it five hundred times so far and only one time did it have to travel the path. We'll test another five hundred times I think." The designers had taken Harry's arithmantic notes on warp bubbles for ships and converted those into a viable acceleration mechanism that didn't require a vacuum in their tubes

Then they passed the building and they were walking along a path of green stone mortared with golden material.

Succulents from Vulcan and the planet were interspersed along the paths with small placards talking about the magical aspects of the plants.

The first cottages were revealed. Designed in groups of three, each of the round homes were just over 114 square meters with typical Vulcan furnishings. Each small grouping of homes were separated by short walls with plants growing higher, creating walls of green while a small triangular rock garden was in the middle of the three buildings.

The exterior of each building was designed to capture all available heat and—unlike Vulcan architecture—radiate it in to bring the homes up to the Vulcan norm.

"They are all aesthetically pleasing," Svorn said. "I understand you use spatial amplification distortion within?"

"Yes. The spells within make each home four stories. Two subterranean and two above ground."

Inside of the nearest home, they saw Vulcan standard furniture with only plants as decor. "We're going to be adding the mirror floo system and a federation standard entertainment system. Off-world communications will have to happen on the Spacedock."

They all nodded. "An understandable concession. The Portkey transit system will be operational soon?" Tests had been done using another ailing Vulcan to verify that portkeys were safe for them to use. While they couldn't activate them for some reason, a transfer station was being built where a mage would be stationed to activate them.

"Yes." Harry led them upstairs. "Each location has two sleeping quarters unless it's assigned to a married couple then the second room will be converted into an office." Harry had been surprised to learn Vulcans slept together when married. He had assumed that it would only be logical to have separate quarters. "There is a communal dining and library of course, in the center of the complex, the tower. They elected to use your IDIC symbol as the layout."

"It is aesthetically pleasing," one of the vulcans said and Harry smiled.

"I thought so too. I wish I had thought of it. I was going to have it be a seven pointed star design. Okay, shall we head back?"

They nodded as Svorn said, "That is acceptable. Thank you."

~•~

Harry was sitting on his throne—a concession to the wizengamot, one he was afraid would lead to too many more—listening to the head Unspeakable: his grandson's first grandchild born on the planet to the first Potter to be born on the ships. "I really like the Vulcans, Sire. They're basically relentless."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy working with them for some time. Now, anything else or can I get off this blasted thing?"

Harry II grinned and bowed then backed away, though ever so mockingly.

Done with the Imperial duties, he slipped off the throne and left the wizengamot.

The mages who were working in the Ministry stopped what they were doing or slowed and did a lot of peeking as he walked to the floos.

He apparated once he was out from under the hexes preventing it and appeared in the shipwright's office.

"Harry!" his shipwright, also named Harry but went by Hank to prevent confusion, jumped up happily. "We finished her, just to your specs!"

"Where is she?"

"Bay Eleven."

Hank and Harry walked down the stairwells until the got to S4 and Hank opened the hatch.

Inside was the prototype fighter, a torpedo shape with diamond shaped wings designed to open up into X shapes, four full power phaser banks, three torpedo launchers—two fore, one aft, multi-element engine, and a pilot's seat with a weapon's officer's seat behind him, able to spin and orient up/down and back/front to better aim.

"Fully magic engine," he said proudly. "They did some weird mumbo jumbo where the engine compartment is larger than the ship but fits in a shoe box that then has another box around it to keep the magic from leaking out. Crystals convert the power from the magical engine to cynophasic to power the launchers, phasers, and the engines. It'll do warp warp one on its own but if it's in the warp field of a larger ship it can parasitically follow."

"Well, once it's tested," Harry said, running his hand along the nacelles on the wings where the hardpoints for missiles had once been on its visual predecessor, the F-22 Raptor. Harry had been in love with the design since he first time he'd seen one at an Air Show his father-in-law had dragged him to.

"We've got a pilot ready to go once you sign off," Hank said, holding out a foot thick stack of parchment. "I had them print it out so I could make some plainer english notations. I know you've passed the entrance exams but they're not enough for what you need to know for this."

"Thanks, Hank."

~•~

Harry was reading the file—about two hundred pages in and utterly entranced—when a pair of hands covered his eyes.

He immediately went into fight or flight mode and threw his attacker over his shoulders, only realizing it was a shocked looking T'ryl as she was accelerated towards the wall.

His wand slid into his hand and the wall behind her blew up into feathers as she hit then slid to a floor that felt like jello as she landed on it.

She drew herself up. "Perhaps I shall not attempt that Earth custom again."

He blinked then started laughing.

"I'm sorry," he got out after a long bout of laughter. "C'mere."

She let him draw her close and they kissed, his hand sliding down to her backside, reveling in the heat of her body against him, the hard pressure of her against his chest.

"That didn't hurt you, right?" he asked when she pulled away.

"Only my pride."

"I thought Vulcans prided themselves on not having Pride," he teased.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever."

"Quit talking to the wives," he suggested but did as told.

Afterwards as they lay in bed, Harry smiled. "Perhaps you should write the Kama Sutra for Vulcan/Human couples."

"That is an excellent idea," she thought aloud as he kissed her hand.

T'ryl sat up then straddled his waist and asked, "What does snail trail mean?"

"It's when a woman's arousal leaves a visible trail on her lover. Did I think that?"

"No. I overheard someone asking if they thought my snail trail was somehow different from a mage's snail trail."

"It's not. Actually, let me amend that. Yours is slightly different in that you leave a slightly copper and crabapples smell when very aroused. It's rather pleasant, reminds me of pitching pennies at the Ministry and Miss Grandin's pies: one of the canteen women.

"Speaking of down there: humans are baby machines monthly. How do Vulcans do it? We've gone for months at a time every day without any, well, bloody stuff."

"My menses comes every sixteen point two months—Vulcan months, that is. I will be fertile again in fifteen weeks—here—for seventeen days but our geneticists will not have to rely on that. They extracted an egg on the trip here and are mapping my genome to prepare it for the attempt. One is the daughter of the geneticist who sequenced Spock and has his personal notes to work with."

"Hermione was really analytical about the baby stuff. It's a shame you two couldn't meet."

"I have spoken with her painting numerous times," she reminded him.

"Paintings aren't the same. They're echoes, just the bits we think most important to pass on. The painting doesn't remember all the bits of Hermione I do, like how she would lose her quills because she would use them as book marks or how she'd buy a baguette every week with green topped carrots but we never ate them. It was such a waste. But also decidedly her."

There was a knock on the door to his library, faint where they stood, but she pulled away nonetheless.

A few moments later an Imperial Auror—Aurors on temporary assignment to the palace to act as guards and internal messengers—held out a folder as she approached. "Latest reports from the Infil Corps."

Harry nodded and accepted it.

"Infil Corps?" she asked once they were along again.

"Our squibs, they receive a commission and education to go out amongst the muggles and help those who have magic come here. The colonies are where they live, this planet is where they learn. Most come to live here but occasionally they stay on the colony or the occasional one moves back, working in the missions to help children that are muggleborn."

"Infiltrator?"

"Yeah," Harry said, reading a report and snickering. "There's a kid here with a really rude name."

"What is it?"

"Fanny Mouthin."

"How is that rude?"

"Fanny is slang for vagina. Mouthin could be slang for eating. The kid's full name could be read as slang for cunnilingus."

She tried not to roll her eyes. "How is this important?"

"I don't know if Fanny is still slang in this time. The child could be teased for the name." He shook his head. "Teasing when not done to a cruel extreme is fairly necessary for humans I think."

"Even among Vulcan children it happens, before emotional control is possible. Spock wrote his biography and mentioned an event where he lost emotional control and struck out when his mother was maligned by other children. He injured several badly, even though he was the physically weakest in the grouping."

"Adrenaline?" he asked. She nodded. Harry mused on that. "They were baiting him to make him lose control?" She nodded again. "Then they got exactly what they deserved," Harry decided.

* * *

Picard settled back in his seat. He had just spent the past four hours dealing with the day's reports, an oddity. Normally it took less than thirty minutes to read all the reports but dealing with the repairs to the ship were necessary.

He sighed as he realized that he had put something off long enough. He started to type out the report on Harry X.

He typed slowly, adding the new information about Harry.

Finally done, he stopped his hand from appending it to his report to Starfleet as usual and instead used aural, retinal, and his personal encryption lock and tagged it for inclusion in the Officer Archives back at Starfleet. The Archives were for reports officers thought might be necessary to include to Starfleet but were also possibly unnecessary at the same time or for storing information.

He had received a report himself, a few months after taking command of the Enterprise. It had been from Captain Sulu who had used scanner readings to estimate the time period his ship at the time—the Stargazer—had been from. The letter had thanked him for his saving their ship from the temporal anomaly.

* * *

He tossed the Infil report aside and sat back down, studying the report on the fighter.

"Why do the wings open up like this?" she asked as she looked at the sketch, showing the vehicle's various control surfaces in action.

"Partially as a reference to a fictional vehicle I liked but it's also to open the weapon hard points. The wings will have a missile stack inside it that utilizes magical space expansion."

"Do you believe you need these weapons?"

"No. But long ago I learned that it's foolish to wait to build what you need. Even the Federation and the Vulcans themselves have armed vehicles. The Enterprise has enough torpedoes to crack a planet wide open, labs capable of creating biological weapons to devastate world—but it's still primarily a vessel of exploration."

"Your argument has merit but the Federation has directives."

"And so will we."

He looked at her. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"A new restaurant opened at the peak of Morgana." The second highest peak after Mt. Merlyn.

An hour later the two were being seated on the terrace of the restaurant, looking out at a cove filled with mist.

"The view is striking."

Harry nodded. "When Cirillia's dad came to me with the idea of a new restaurant, I suggested the location. We had to use spells I developed during my exile to make the lighter atmosphere up here breathable."

"How so?"

"The atmosphere on the planet I was on was heavier than the atmosphere I needed. I used spells to keep it out when the hull breached, creating an alarm that told me where the hull broke. the same thing is done here, to keep the heavier atmosphere inside the dome of magic."

Their meals came, tacos for both.

"I have not seen this type of food before," she said.

Harry smiled. "Tacos come from Spain probably, or Mexico. The wrap is a flour or corn tortilla. You eat them with your fingers. Back when I was still on earth, there was this food truck in New York that I would happily pay the cost to floo from England to New York just for their tacos. Drove Hermione nuts I would spend so much just for a taco. Until I took her for one. 'Okay, we're coming here for tacos every Sunday!' she said."

She took a bite and her eyes widened. "There's meat in this!" she said, setting it down.

"Transfigured meat," the waitress said as she approached. "All of our food is transfigured meats from various sources. Your meal is made up of one half of an avocado, soy cakes, and wheat gluten formed into patties then transfigured into meat and shredded to form the taco meat, miss."

T'ryl nodded and picked it back up. Vulcans were vegetarian or vegan for ethical reasons but could still process animal flesh. She took another bite. "It is very good. Why this type of food in such a formal restaurant?"

"I missed comfort food trucks most of all," he told her. "So the menu here is comfort foods in a formal setting. The idea made me laugh. And made a lot of critics take notice. I ended up backing a few more restaurants too, each one specializing in ethnic foods that have been ignored."

"An excellent idea. My parents grew up on a specific type of food that I never tried until I was fourteen. It could be considered an ethnic food as well, utilizing loafs and sandwiches instead of what I was used to as a child, sautés and stir fries. They were born on an agrarian colony that specialized in grains and breads."

"I never figured humanity could spread out so much," Harry said, returning to another conversation. "It's a little frightening. I get that humanity has advanced beyond the Eugenics wars but when I see muggles, I still see the fools that thought they could kidnap me and turn me into a weapon to counter their own foolishness."

"Perhaps you should meditate on these feelings."

* * *

The file routed itself through various subspace relays until it hit the final one before its arrival at Starfleet Command. The file was copied and rerouted to a hidden base on the moon. Section 31 utilized biometric clones of all captains and opened their files.

The new data on Captain Harry X was added to the file and a flag was added to Picard's file.

* * *

"Harry," Campbell said. "Sorry to bug you but I've got Admiral Forrester on the line for you up here. He said if you can't get on the line, he can call back in one or three or in twenty-four hours."

"I'll be up there in two minutes," Harry said. "Just got outta bed."

He kissed T'ryl's bare shoulder, making her shift in her sleep then pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee that proclaimed Never Mind the Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols.

He apparated to the portkey room and took it up to the Spacedock.

In the captain's office, he took Campbell's place at the desk and put his feet up then turned on the display. "Admiral, how are you? How're the kids?" Forrester had done all the negotiating with him on behalf of the Federation and Starfleet.

"Good and they're doing great. Jake just got accepted into Starfleet a year early. Reason I contacted you, a colony has been found on one of the worlds we ceded to you. Now there're a few different actions we can take. We can relocate them, you can charge them rent, or we can find you another world or we can renegotiate."

Harry scratched his chin, his new beard still at the itchy stage. "What are they doing there? Did they just land or have they been there a while?"

"Been there a while, it seems. A colony ship had issues a few decades ago and they elected to land and setup shop. They're mennonites. Those are—"

"I know what mennonites are. There's a city of them here," Harry replied. "You know what, how about next time I'm on Earth we just renegotiate. I feel kind of bad being the owner of planets that are colonizable that I'm not even using."

"Alright then, when'll you be back?"

"Hmmm, I have some work to do here but if you wanna come see me here at the Spacedock, we could do that. I'm interviewing bartenders tomorrow in fact so we should have a pub and restaurant ready to go—how about in October?"

"I'll have my assistant make a note of it. See you then, Harry."

Campbell was waiting just outside his office when Harry walked out.

"I'm glad you're here. All the captains are as well so we need to have a captain's meeting."

"Okay, the lounge?" They had three areas for meetings; a lounge, a small auditorium, and a large ready room.

"Works for me, twenty minutes?"

Harry nodded and walked down to walk along the promenade. Most of the spouses of his engineers had opened up a few places, including a small jewelry store selling mostly Andorian stuff and a temporary pub. He found it all kind of gaudy but she seemed to be doing pretty well since there were some people he knew weren't spouses of the people stationed on the spacedock.

Finally he walked into the lounge and all the captains came to their feet along with Campbell straightening up at the small lectern.

"At ease," Harry said.

"This meeting has been called to deal with an issue of rank disparity."

Harry frowned, unsure where Campbell was going with this.

"The commerce charter under which we operate states that all commanders of ships must carry the rank of captain at the least."

Harry was about to object that they all were captains.

"But those in the command structure above these captains should not be of commensurate rank as this creates disparity.

Harry opened his mouth to say that Campbell should of course be raised to commandant or commodore.

"Therefore, all captains who agree, raise their hand to promote Captain Harry Potter to Commodore."

They all raised their hand save Harry.

Captain Savir, the closest to Harry nudged him in the hip and in a sotto voce said, "Sir, raise your hand for yourself."

He closed his mouth and raised his hand.

"Congratulations Commodore Potter!"

"Keep those hands up," Harry said. "Because you're raising the numbnuts at the lectern to Commandant of the Spacedock." He looked around. All the hands were still up. "Congrats, Commandant. Now, for _your_ wetting down ceremony!"

Laughter filled the room. The etiquette for a wetting down ceremony meant Campbell was paying for the booze at the temporary pub on the promenade.

~•~

Harry didn't like any of the three who had come to the Spacedock for the bartender job. His last interview was with an El Aurian via comm. In Campbell's office, he nodded politely to the woman, a rather petite looking thing with significant facial piercings, multicoloured hair, and full sleeves of ink. Harry liked her already. She looked like Tonks with a smidgen of Harry II's wife Vinasha who also had tattoos covering the majority of her body.

"Hi, I'm Kiarasalarianalafarinadureina. It translates to Harmony of the Light and Darkness so most people just call me Harli."

"Hello Harli. Guinan said you have some skill as a bartender. I'm looking for someone to create a place on my Spacedock that has, well, pub culture I guess."

"I have a few ideas about that. I'm on Earth right now and I've been having some drinks in a place called Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem. It's based on the oldest pub on Earth and has this old Earth feel, people tell me."

She kept on about it as Harry thought about his own trip to the real Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem before they left. He nodded occasionally, liking her ideas about shipping in teak wood and other supplies from Earth.

"Why don't you come on out to the Spacedock and we'll have a designer here. They'll sketch up your ideas and we'll go from there."

"Awesome, I'll be there in a couple weeks I think."

"I have a cargo ship heading to Earth—well Mars—already to pick up some supplies. You can just hop a ride back on that."

"I'll see you then then."

She waved perkily and Harry saved the mental image for when he didn't have a lover again.

* * *

Harry shook the hands of the Risian woman who had won the design contest. "So, before we can begin, you need to sign this document. A small transporter in the stylus will remove some blood to sign the NonDisclosure Agreement."

"A cultural requirement?"

Harry nodded.

Once it was signed, he told her just what he could do and took her down to the planet.

The seven hour tour of his planet left the woman in a state of shock and extreme excitement for designing the uniforms of his people.

"No robes and I'm a huge fan of Hugo Boss," Harry told her, handing her PADD full of Hugo Boss clothing designs. "But greatcoats rock."

She nodded, looking through the designs. "Archaic but sharp. Colors?"

"Red and gold I think but as accents because each fleet will be different color coded. My armour is red and gold, matching the first fleet, Gryffindor. I'll have some sent up for you to see. With symbols for the various fields instead of colors like Starfleet uses," Harry suggested. "The PADD has the various military uniforms I like as well. I'll leave you to it and Campbell will get you whatever you need. But toss in some of your own ideas."

She nodded and settled into her office as Harry left.

His return to the planet, he found Sonar waiting in the throne room, kneeling, a large vase before him. "For me?" Harry asked.

Sonar shook his head. "A gift for your and T'Ryl's child when it comes."

He opened the vase and Harry was a little surprised that it was not the vase itself. Instead a small, wriggly looking sehlat pup the size of Harry's two fists together looked at Harry then Sonar. It slid off the vase's flat platform, gave a small yelp of surprise at hitting the floor, then made its way unsteadily towards Harry who squatted down. The Sehlat pup sniffed him then licked his palm.

"Named?"

"Yes, but pedigree. It is up to you to teach and train her. I have included the documentation you need to do so properly. She is to be the protecter of your child, as is only proper."

Harry nodded as he picked up the pup and she began making a raspy whoof sound.

~•~

T'ryl returned from her trip to the other continents to find Harry asleep in bed, the Sehlat pup on his chest, watching her carefully. "Peace, little one," she said softly. "I am his," she told him.

The pup ignored it and Harry snorted awake as she made a loud warning sound. "T'ryl. You're early!"

"I believe a human woman might make a comment about you being in bed with another female."

"They would also likely comment about great age disparity," he replied, smirking as he picked up the pup. "Bitch would also be a proper pejorative to use. Shush T'pau."

He held her up to smell T'ryl and said in Vulcan, "Obey."

She growled and he said it more forcefully.

T'pau huffed then stilled and wriggled her stumpy little tail.

He put her down on the floor and she tried to jump up onto her bed. Harry chuckled and gave her a boost up.

"It's crazy you take them away so young." T'pau had been less than a week old at presentation. She had been removed from her mother in the wild the day she'd been born.

"If we do not, they cannot be domesticated and the pups of domesticated Sehlat are weak and live only fifty years or so."

She undressed and walked to the bathroom, positive that Harry was watching her as she divested herself of the undergarments she wore.

When she returned, she carefully used a brush with a hot air charm on it to dry her hair then twisted it all into a messy knot before climbing into the bed with him on the side opposite the Sehlat pup. "She arrived sooner than expected. I thought it would be weeks before Sehlats were giving birth. A cold period must have driven up the mating season."

"Is T'pau a good name? I know it's an ancestor's name for you but I thought because of her cultural significance, it would be good too."

"It is fine though it will draw interest. Few name their pets with proper names. Ba'ku is a contraction of a Vulcan term meaning 'I will protect you as you protect me.' That is a typical name for a Sehlat. And very common."

"Had it been a boy I would have named him after the coolest man to ever live, Samuel L. O. B. A. M. F. Jackson."

She ran through all the names of humanity's heroes she could think of. "I do not believe I've come across this name before."

"Samuel Leroy 'One Bad Ass Motherfucker' Jackson was an actor. He died in 2029 when he was the first human to kill an Augment in hand-to-hand combat. Jackson had a long career of playing dangerous characters. At the time he was in his mid seventies and was following a Secret Service agent for a role where his character would be a former Secret Service agent who was forced out of retirement when a stalker who killed the previous president's wife escapes from prison and targets the current president's spouse. It looked to be a crappy movie but it had Sammy in it so i would have seen it.

"Anyway, he's following the guy around, taking notes, making a date with the president to play golf when it happens. Two augments break off of a tour group and attempt to kill the president—which makes no sense because kidnapping him would have been better to do—but Sammy picks up the gun of the agent whose just been killed and slams the barrel into the eye of an augment, killing him."

"Would not a gun have been too large to fit into an eye socket?" She had toured the arms museum on Earth and had seen a number of firearms close enough.

Harry surprised her by summoning a firearm from through a wall.

"Where did that come from?"

"It's a small room that I've hidden with the fidelius. When I found out Cirillia was playing here I made sure I had a room to store my stuff where she couldn't hurt herself. This is a Remington Rand 1911, made in 1945." He dropped the magazine out and tested the slide to verify it wasn't loaded then locked it back. "The slide locks back when a magazine is empty. He jammed the barrel into the Augment's eyes."

He put the weapon back together. "This was my father-in-law's. He left it to me. Hermione was horrified to learn her dad owned a gun." He chuckled. "She got so mad when i kept it. They were illegal in the country we lived in. I reminded her that with my wand I could kill a lot more people than with a gun. I slept on the couch for weeks after that."

"Why were you forced to sleep on the couch?"

"I won the argument by pointing out her faulty logic."

She cocked an eyebrow. "That makes no sense."

"Human sexual dynamics aren't supposed to make sense unless you are human I think. Now, can you do that neuropressure thing so I can get a few more hour's sleep?"

She nodded and slowly stroked his neck until she found the right spot and applied pressure. He yawned sleepily and muttered "Thanks sugar tits" and slid down the bed, getting his pillow comfortable before falling asleep.

She raised an eyebrow at being called sugar tits. Normally when he felt the need to use a term of endearment, he called her by her private name—T'rylotherri'i, or Otter-Pop. He had teasingly informed her that her expression at tasting an Otter-Pop had been nearly orgasmic to watch.

Deciding to ask him about that tomorrow, she settled down, using his shoulder as her pillow, letting his slow breathing time her meditative state.

When he awoke a few hours later, he found breakfast for two had been delivered and a bowl of kibble designed for Sehlats was being devoured by the puppy. He made a mental note to remind Darby that the puppy had a thumb sized stomach.

As T'pau lay on the floor, huffing contentedly at its bulging stomach, T'ryl and Harry had their own breakfast in bed. "Why did you call me sugar-tits last night?"

Her question came just as he had a mouthful of coffee—and since he had been turned to look at her—she ended up with his mouthful of coffee all over her.

She blinked then raised an eyebrow as he said, "What?"

He grabbed his shirt from the floor and said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't—did I call you sugar-tits seriously?"

"Yes, last night. what is its significance?"

"Something an actor once said in a racist and sexist diatribe to a cop during a stop where he was drunk. I used to tease Fleur with it because on our first date…. Well, I'll tell you about that later." He tossed the shirt aside and she stood.

"I will shower and cleanse off the remnant."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorrow is not necessary, you did not do it on purpose."

"How about I join you in the shower and we conserve water?" he asked hopefully.

"It takes me six minutes to shower if I do not cleanse my hair, thirteen if I do. 'Conserving' water with you takes at least thirty minutes, forty if we have had relations the night before."

He grinned. "As you wish it."

He watched her go then picked up T'pau and fed her a small bit of bacon. She huffed appreciatively at the food and watched intently as he ate.

A knock at the door. "Come."

An Imperial Auror opened the door. "Daily log from last night and Master Sonar requested an audience this morning."

"I'll be up and about in half an hour. Tell him 1000."

"Yes Sire!"

Harry continued eating his breakfast as he read the files. Hank had finished the latest ship design. He now had a full fleet on paper; fighters, carriers, cruisers, destroyers, and battleships, all designed to interconnect around a command and control ship, the flagship of a fleet with seven full fleets to be built.

The sphere design had been reformed only slightly. Instead of all the ships being inside, forty percent of the fighters would be externally mounted with the reserve force capable of being launched from the internal bays. Also adorning the superstructure would be docking mounts for the destroyers, based on the defiant design. The mindset for the Defiant class was the basis for the Destroyers, overpowered and overgunned. The sphere itself was the carrier class and a massive hospital ship and inside were seven more ships to be the fifty percent larger than the galaxy class ship with twice as much firepower but the same goals, scientific research. While the sphere was undergunned for a vehicle its size, the fleet of ships that traveled with it were to be its guns. Three expeditionary landers were being designed as well but they were a low priority.

Done eating, he dressed and prepared for his meeting with the first team.

They were in the green sitting room when Harry walked in and he gestured for them to sit when they jumped up. "Moriarty, Holmes, Watson." He snickered. When he had found out that he had a wizard and a witch named Holmes and Watson who were in a complementary field to Moriarty's the teamup was inevitable.

Moriarty pinched the bridge of his nose as Harry asked, "He hasn't gone Concierge of Crime, has he? I'll expect you two to foil his dastardly plans if he does."

Holmes and Watson laughed then held out a MADD. "I know you prefer parchment but there was no time to transcribe. We'll send over a folder later," Watson promised.

Harry nodded as he flicked through the MADD. "So it looks like you've interconnected a magical version of a computer and paintings. How's the speed?"

"About 10 to the eighteenth. The Enterprise D is capable of a lot more but on our first success we got to the point of Data's capabilities," Moriarty said. "I think it's pretty damn good."

Harry nodded. "It is. Are Data's design specs available? We might need that kind of force multiplication to do everything via golems."

"They are, the golem team is using him as their goal of capapilities. We'd really like to bring him here."

"He'd explode," Harry said. "Too much magic for him. When I hung out with him at a poker game he ended up throwing out a winning hand and going all-in on a terrible hand because I was kinda stressed out, I think."

"Fascinating," Watson said. "But perhaps we could invite him to the Spacedock? And are you ever gonna name it?"

"The schools are voting on a best name then the population will vote once they have their choices."

A few more minute and the briefing was done. Harry would go to see their stuff for a fuller brief later but for now, other things were happening.

The most exciting briefing was from his Vulcan and magical metallurgy team. An alloy they had devised using vulcan metal, a magically created post-transuranic metal, and magicite was able to draw in all types of directed energy weaponry. It was vulnerable to explosives and antimatter but they were hopeful that they would have a ship skin capable of taking obscene amounts of direct fire before failure.

A few more briefings and then Sonar arrived. T'pau moved towards him with a weird sideways gait then leapt on the Vulcan's boots and tried to bite the decorative bits. Harry cocked his head then called her back. "Sorry."

"Quite alright, I was the one who wore kova grain derived boots. Sehlats believe kova grain is always hiding one of their favorite prey."

Harry scooped up the pup and rubbed the top of her head. "You are difficult to train, little one."

"Her brain isn't full size yet.

"T'ana and T'ryl have said that we should have a bonding experience."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Big B or little b? Because if it's the former, you're a very handsome man and I know I'm as cute as a bug but I don't swing like that." The Aurors in the throne room hid snickers behind their hands.

"Is that a reference to the Matrimonial Bond?"

"Yes."

"I assume that was droll then. Or they were laughing because you are royalty," he said drily. The Aurors snickered again. "They suggested that as it is my day off and I have nothing else scheduled, I should spend time with you so that they can have their own discussions."

"Huh, Vulcan women ride the crop just as hard as human women," Harry muttered.

Sonar pretended not to hear that but would have nodded if he had any less control.

"It's pretty good timing," he told Sonar. "Today I'm touring the armoury, their projects are all at a practical demonstration level."

He nodded and they were soon in the waiting vehicle after putting T'pau in his bedroom.

As they were ferried to the armoury, Sonar asked, "T'ryl said that you had a significant number of antique vehicles?"

Harry nodded. "I got drunk with my father-in-law one evening and we went to a car auction. I ended up buying twenty cars. Thankfully eleven of the owners were willing to let me pay a fine and their second highest bidder got the car. I ended up with nine awesome and insanely expensive cars. Now that it's no longer illegal to have muggle items heavily modified I've been working on them occasionally."

"Were you wealthy then?" While both Terra and Vulcan were post-scarcity civilizations meaning necessities were mostly free and money could be ignored for the most part, luxuries were often rare and rarities required compensation in some way. Harry's wealth now was in dilithium, land, and access to rarities few if anyone else had due to his peoples' abilities. They had already begun showing magically created artworks utilizing transfigured crystal. The Vulcans had been more than willing to trade the formula for their alloys for a seven piece set of crystal that showed Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations in a new way. They were on display in the Vulcan Embassy with a tag stating they had been a gift from Harry X.

"Rather so. Not insanely, I wasn't Warren Buffett or Bill Gates—both having multiples of a thousand million dollars—but I was earning a million or more galleons a year in profits from my family's potions even centuries after they'd first been made. Not everyone was skilled enough to create potions."

"Yes, I read that they made their most off what was essentially a pomade?"

"Magic accentuates characteristics in people." He ran his hand over his hair. "This hair? Untameable since the sixteen hundreds."

"Fascinating," he said, thinking about the first statement, not Harry's hair.

"And it was more of a gel," Harry said. "I think. Not even sure what a pomade is, actually."

"A waxy substance that coats hair. Early Vulcan equivalents were made from the belly fat of the vai-sehlat, a genetically engineered variant of the sehlat."

"You invented genetic engineering before pomade?"

A twitch of the lip and the movement of the brow made Harry think he had might have made him laugh. "One could think it that way. Other hair treatments existed, often made of wax from a bee-like creature's hive, but the wet-look became very popular and the fat was very common."

Harry started to ask how he knew that—Vulcans had wide-ranging interests because long life often led to multiple careers—but he was interrupted by the vehicle arriving at the armoury, an inverted designed building that looked like a snake wrapped around a cone.

"Fascinating. The building extends outward too much for a support only fifteen meters wide to support."

"Magic," Harry reminded him. "And they hid the supports with magic to not ruin the lines of the building."

Inside they passed through a dozen checkpoints until they were in a large room where men, women, and two male vulcans worked. "Vulcans working on weapons?" Sonar asked. Ever since the Vulcan High Command had been ousted by the Syrannites centuries before Vulcans no longer designed weapons, only utilizing their old weapons or Federation weapons when necessary.

"They're helping with the magical engine that powers the gun," said a witch coming up behind the two. "The engine has significant uses beyond weaponry. They're here because we won't allow the design out of here until we've got it perfect."

Harry picked up one of the weapons that had a tag on it labeled 'Demonstrator model Mark 2 Mod 1.'

"This is based on the Colt 1911, a gun designed in, shockingly, 1911. I have one that my father-in-law left me. I decided to use it as the basis but heavily modified."

Harry held it so that Sonar could see the modifications and he pointed them out as he explained them. Instead of a hollow barrel a focusing lens could be seen and the reverse plug was a secondary lens. Instead of a safety on the side there were two selector switches; one that toggled between stun and reductor, the other toggled lock and fire. "The production model will have a couple more spell choices I hope. I want them to be able to explode, stun, ennervate, instant portkey spells, create a cursed barrier that blocks teleporters, and potentially obliviate or disintegrate a target."

"No kill?"

"I'd prefer to take prisoners alive," Harry said, "but if necessary, one can kill with multiple stun shots or the reductor or disintegration curses. Reductor's used to blow something up."

Sonar nodded as Harry flipped the gun to Reductor and Fire then shot a marble block. The weapon was silent and the slide didn't move but the blue light hit the marble block then turned it into a cloud of dust.

"Why not just use your wands?"

"I don't want our wands to be in view of people. They'll have them but in holsters that make muggles ignore them. Please try it," Harry asked.

Sonar hesitated but accepted the firearm and aimed at the block how Harry told him to. The spell was much less powerful when done by Sonar.

They both heard a soft curse from one of the designers. They wanted them to work for anyone but it seemed that they were only five percent effective if used by someone without magic.

"Huh," Harry said. "Perhaps have T'ryl try when she's pregnant," he told the witch with them. "I remember someone once saying that magical items that required a magical person could be used by muggles pregnant with magical children."

She made a note of it then Harry headed out of the room.

Their next stop was on a higher floor. Here there were armour sets in various designs.

"Environmental armour sets," the waiting wizard said for Sonar's benefit. "Welcome Sire. The model you wanted us to design is ready. It's been fully tested. And it is awe-inspiring. It will look beautiful on the Imperial Aurors."

"That's not the plan for it but holy crap that is a brilliant idea," Harry admitted.

"Then it's just for you?" Harry nodded. "I wish I had added the crown then."

Harry narrowed his eyes and the wizard stepped back. "A joke sire. But the sketches of it with a crown look impressive."

He held up a book after finding the page and Harry sighed. "Damn, that does look cool."

"Broham did the sketch," he said, gesturing to a wizard behind them, etching a sheet of dark red metal.

"Broham? Please tell me Broseph and Broce aren't names too?"

"They are. Very popular fifty years ago."

Harry groaned. "Great, four centuries later and I still can't escape brociety."

He straightened up. "Show me the armour."

A case that was little bigger than a coffin was lowered by a mechanical arm. When it was set into a slot on the floor, the arm began spinning, its skeletal fingers tapping out a release code too fast for the human eye to see then the case began to fold backwards, revealing a gold and red suit of metal. A small plaque on hanging from the neck of the armour called it 'Iron Man Armour XLVI Complete.'

"Would not Iron be a dangerous choice for environmental armour?"

Harry smiled. "It's based on the design of a fictional character I loved back on Earth. Those alloys are the new ones we developed. The armour is for working in unsafe environments, space walks, and is combat capable. The pouches on the waist have a bivouac with an airlock, a month's supply of food, and a an oxygen generation unit."

"The autocatheters are incredibly uncomfortable," the wizard said. "We're working on a charm that will numb the area affected as they activate."

Harry winced. "Good idea. Who tested it?"

"I did, Sire. It was brilliant. It flies like a dream. Nearly a thousand kilometers per hour and I only couldn't go faster because of nerves. My full write up is in the file to go with you. Shall we transfer the armour to the castle now?"

"It can wait. Let's go see the uniforms."

The uniforms ended up being gold and red accented black uniforms that had a hint of schutzstaffel about them Harry thought, due to the collars. "Do away with the collars," Harry said. "Have it be a single band or a clergy collar. I love the cassock jacket," Harry admitted. it reminded him of Neo in the Matrix though this was leather with protective runic arrays all over it and chains as clasps.

Dena—the Risian designer—took out a sheet of paper and began erasing it with a lump of rubber then sketched in a new collar. "Yes," Harry said, "work that up and lemme see it."

Sonar and Harry had lunch in the cafeteria of the armoury.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Thoughts?"

"The uniform had a very authoritarian look."

Harry nodded. "Officer uniforms for my fleet. The other fleets will have a color code based on the House they're cued from."

"What of the enlisted?"

"Same unis but no color coding. Their nametags or covers will have the mascot of their fleet on it I think."

* * *

Harry and T'ryl were on the Spacedock, having dinner at a new restaurant opened by an Orion-Klingon Hybrid. The food was of neither culture. Instead, he served vegan food utilizing custom replicator codes.

Harry wasn't a huge fan but he liked the vegetable pasta with a sesame soy sauce. T'ryl found her meal to be very good.

"They have begun resequencing your genome again." For the seventeenth time.

"Why? The same issue?"

She nodded. His—and all mage—DNA when they tried to sequence it caused transcription errors. If it wasn't important, Harry was sure he would find it hilarious. Mages were trying to create a magical way of sequencing DNA as well. "Are they trying to brute force it?" She raised an eyebrow. "Brute forcing in this would be to take every one they've done then set them side by side and use the good sequences of previous attempts over where the bad sequences happen."

"This is normal procedure. The transcription errors happen in the same places with occasional errors in other segments."

"I'm sure they'll figure it out. Are you alright?" Harry asked. "You look flush."

"I am currently ovulating."

"Oh!" Harry said. "I thought that was weeks ago."

"My cycle seems to have been interrupted. I started last night."

"So you want to use me?" he asked hopefully.

She hesitated a moment then lowered her voice. "Yes, I would like to attempt proc—have sex."

He put his hand over hers. "You're such a romantic," he teased. "As soon as the grand opening is over we'll go back and procreate our brains out."

"That would be an illog—." She bowed her head, realizing he was still teasing her. She was exerting significantly more emotional control than she normally had to. "Yes." She looked up at him and he saw the raw emotion in her eyes. "I have elected to wear the fuchsia lingerie set that you like."

He looked at her collar and noticed the latex band of the item showing slightly.

With their meal over, Harry left a few slips of latinum on the table then the two walked to the pub.

The faint scent of woods from Vulcan, Terra, and Qonos was in the air as the servers were doing the last minute setup.

Harli saw them and flounced over in her own clothing, a slinky evening dress made up of iridescent sequins that were slightly transparent, showing the pattern of clothing underneath that was also iridescent in different hues. It was riotous but alluring. Harry wished it was on T'ryl. "Harry, T'ryl, what do you think?"

"It is aesthetically pleasing but do not using Vulcan and Klingon woods make the tableau unauthentic?"

"If it was authentic the servers and bartenders would be wearing beefeater uniforms, not their halter blouses and skirts or slacks and dress shirts.

"The three woods' scents together have been proven to cause a more genial mood and the bartender back there? He's part betazed, he knows exactly what to make to accentuate or level your mood and since he's empathic, he knows which is the best choice for the person.

"Each of the servers are the best ones I met while on Earth who wanted to leave."

A server came up and touched Harli's arm then whispered they were ready in her ear.

"Okay, time to open."

People began to stream in. Forty off duty engineers, six vulcans, and nearly as many traders were now inside and the noise level began to rise.

"Try to keep this up," Harry told Harli. "T'ryl, let's go."

Harli told them to have a good night and watched T'ryl's backside as they left.

~•~

Instead of heading towards the bedroom, Harry led her to a subterranean floor and she found the ground vehicles he had discussed before within. "Darby, service."

The house-elf appeared. "Reporting as ordered, Sire!" she squealed then gave a little salute.

"We're going to the cottage. Please pack some things for her to wear. And some stuff for me. Umm, ask Fleur for advice."

She nodded rapidly then disappeared.

Harry looked around. All of his vehicles were now incredibly illegal if they still lived on Earth and were hiding but now each one had invisibility boosters, flying modules, and handling that Federation runabouts could only dream of if they were sentient. "Remind Hank we need runabouts," he told her and she nodded. "Let's take the Ferrari." A 2015 California T.

He opened the door for her and as she got in, he saw she had on stockings with garters holding them up.

Outside, Harry took to the air and flew towards the island chain where the merpeoples' colonies were for the most part.

He set the car down on a beach of black sand with golden palm trees and they got out.

"Very aesthetically pleasing," she said.

Harry nodded. "Fleur chose it, I was told." He turned to look at the cottage and felt T'ryl close on him then her arms were around him and her lips were teasing his neck.

He turned and saw her dress was on the floor, the translucent latex cheong sam showed she only had the stockings on besides it.

A few twists and the froggings and garters were undone then she stood on the beach in stilettos and stockings.

~•~

"This is a typical earth beach garment?" T'ryl asked after she stepped out of the cabin they had elected to use—it was one of many that had been built for Potters to use as the family grew.

Harry choked on his fruit juice and dropped his coconut. "No. That's the kind of thing Fleur wore to uhh… nonverbally intimate me that she wanted me to make a baby." It was little more than postage stamps and dental floss and didn't cover anything. And Harry really liked how the white string looked on her skin.

"How long will we stay here?" she asked.

"Just another couple days. Getting away is nice."

"This is like the seclusion period a pair-bonded couple goes through. Speaking of pair-bonding, at one time I was sure we may have accidentally pair-bonded but my mother assures me that I just have a high psi-quotient. Had we been pair-bonded, you would have been able to detect my thoughts from a distance."

He nodded, a little distracted by her attributes. He gave up trying to rest and stood, heading towards her to drag her inside and wear himself out.

* * *

T'ryl looked at the physician and wondered if her illness had caused her some sort of hearing issue. "That cannot be possible," she replied. "You must have made a mistake."

~•~

T'ryl removed the file from Harry's hands to draw his attention and said, "I am pregnant."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Updating on time when I meant to update two days ago. Well, better than nothing.

* * *

Harry looked at the holosound. She was in fact pregnant. A pair of three week old fetuses rotated in the air between the two.

"They are still sequencing your genome but every scan says this is a completely viable Human-Vulcan hybrid pregnancy," Healer Liana said. "It is quite improbable."

Harry put his hand on T'ryl's stomach. "Magic will find a way."

"A year ago I would have discounted you as a madman," Liana said. "More evidence of magic finding a way would be helpful."

"Find your own human," T'ryl said.

Harry thought they were about to argue but a quirk of the Healer's lip made him think they knew each other for some time.

"Healer Liana is the friend who helped me when I was going through Pon Farr the first time."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well thank you, then, because that story is incredible. You know, it would probably make you a very rich person if you wrote a holodeck routine about it." He had been purchasing holodeck routines for the Spacedock and had perused the adult ones out of curiousity and found them to be very expensive. The one with the Vulcan orgy was incredibly popular the catalog had said, rating it highly.

"If i am ever in need of a large sum of money, i may do that," she said.

T'ryl stood and pulled her robes back into place. "Thank you, Liana. We will make the announcements in the proper time."

"Excellent, I have literature for you based on previous human-vulcan pregnancies. And these supplements will help both you and the children. My congratulations to you both."

"Proper time?" Harry asked.

"Immediate family learns now so they don't make plans that could affect a pregnancy and cancel ones that do with an excuse that doesn't say I am. Vulcan custom is to wait until the first quadrimester is over before announcing publicly."

"Hermione and Fleur did the same, waiting until the first trim—quadrimester?! How long will you be pregnant?"

"Vulcan gestation is one Vulcan year or 47.5 earth weeks approximately."

Harry made a sound of relief. "Oh, good, only two extra months. I was afraid you were going to say something ridiculous like you gestated as long as an elephant or a sperm whale."

"How long do they gestate?"

"Twenty two months for an elephant I think. And I assume a long time for a sperm whale since it's huge too."

He ran his fingers along her cheek. "Both Fleur and Hermione got exponentially more attractive as they got visibly pregnant. Looking forward to seeing how hot you get."

"My body heat will of course—oh. Thank you. Though exponentially more attractive is impossible."

"So was you getting pregnant without engineering help." He kissed her then they headed back to his waiting car, this time a ministry vehicle since all of his were two seaters.

"As I am pregnant, i can no longer work on the project i was due to its use of tetragenic compounds." She had been taking part in the alloy experiments as her minor at the Vulcan Science Academy had been in material sciences.

"Why don't you join the dictionary program? I don't think there's a political editor. Or you could just be my concubine for the next decade or so. Or perhaps you could teach at the Academy."

"While I'm sure I would would that be quite physically pleasurable, my education would be wasted," she said rather drily.

"Actually," he thought aloud. "You've written holodeck programs before, right?"

She nodded. "Why don't you take my wife's biography of me and turn it into a holodeck program. Every muggleborn's parents I met over the years said it was absolutely horrifying and incredibly entertaining."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I could write each year of your schooling as multiple episodes. Then your auror training could be an interactive one so that users of it could, in your place, solve some of the crimes you did. The schooling could be interactive as well," she thought aloud.

Harry smiled. He had suggested the biography during Hermione's first pregnancy when she was on bedrest.

* * *

Cirillia's eyes widened as she sat at the table, listening to the adults speaking. Every Potter of note was at this dinner and Harry had just informed them that T'ryl was pregnant. She looked over at the Vulcan woman sitting next to her and imagined that she could see a bump, like Miss Molly had at Hogwarts. "Can I touch?" she asked.

"They are not big nor well developed enough to kick," she informed the girl. "But you may if you wish to."

She touched the stomach then pulled her hand away. "You're hot!"

A few of the adults snickered at that.

"Yes, Vulcan body temperature is well above human body temperature and when pregnant, it rises as well."

Cirillia hesitated then asked, "Umm, I'll still be princess, right?"

Harry laughed. "The Succession won't change. Unless you never have children then it will likely revert to them."

"Good, I wanna be the kumquat princess again!" Kumquats were the only export crop they had because they also grew very well on their planet's co-orbiting colony world. During the summer break the harvest and the festival for the harvest took place over five days.

There was more laughter from adults then one, a healer, asked, "How much of that gene tweaking thing did it take?"

"In fact, it took none," T'ryl said. "I felt a biological change taking place and went to see a Vulcan Healer. She verified that I was pregnant and approximately three weeks along at the time."

"Magic is as magic does," another adult said and Harry muttered something about making sure Forrest Gump was gone forever.

After dinner and dessert, Harry and Cirillia left the adults to conversation as he took her up to the newly named Peverell One. This was one time Harry was actually honored by a decision because it honored his ancestors who led to strife and conflict and their own world, not just him. He made a mental note to suggest renaming their Planet to Ignotus and potentially rename Alpha III to Cadmus.

"Now let's see…. Your robes are very cute but we're going among muggles. Do you wanna try muggle clothes?"

She nodded and he led her to the room where Harry's children's clothing had been stored. She poked through things until she came to a shirt that said Jedi Princess. "This is so cute, grandpa! What's a Jedi?"

"We'll watch the movies when you're home for Winter Break."

She nodded then found a black and red flannel skirt. "Ooh, this is cute too!"

Ten minutes later, Harry had her hand in his as they walked to the Portkey room, his grimace at her pseudopunk look well hidden. She looked like a mini Tonks and it brought back memories. "Okay, remember, call me uncle, not grandpa. And no Sire or Emperor."

"But you are!"

"Yes but I don't want people to call me that when I'm up there, okay?"

She looked confused but nodded.

On the station, she soon was hiding behind him as she looked around his hip to see all the people. "They really are all muggles?" she asked breathlessly.

"Some are Vulcans and there're one or two from back home but yeah, mostly muggles."

He took her hand and showed her the promenade, watching her eyes widen as she took in the aliens and the alien items for sale.

He ended up standing in the jewelry store as she looked with great appreciation at the things he knew in ten years she'd think too gaudy and in forty years she'd find to be the perfect accoutrement.

She pointed to the lone earrings on half mannequins and asked, "Where's the other one?"

"Those are Bajoran faith earrings. They also indicate what caste they are a member of," the owner of the shop said. "They're not for sale. Starfleet officers who find them send them here to me. Since Bajor is occupied, we'll hold them here until one day, when Bajor is free again, we can repatriate these." She was about to explain they were stolen from the dead slaves until she saw Harry's eyes and changed it to them being lost somehow.

He ended up purchasing her a slightly less than gaudy piece of lapis lazuli shaped to form a physical representation of a warp field with a Federation logo engraved and gilded on it.

She wore it happily picking it up to look closely every once in a while.

"Commander Riker!"

Cirillia dropped her pendant and looked at the man who turned around. She blushed. He was even handsomer than the Emperor.

"I'm sorry—"

"Wait, you were demo—oh, you must be Tom, then?"

"Yeah. You heard about that?"

"Yeah, I'm Harry X. Bev told me about it."

"Oh, you're that Harry. It's good to meet you," he said, holding his hand out.

Harry shook his hand then introduced Cirillia who was staring at Riker.

"Hello, little one," Riker said.

"It's gotta be rough, finding out you're essentially a clone and the woman you wanted to marry is married to Riker-prime. Where're you posted now?"

"I spent a year on the Enterprise then I got posted to the Chattanooga. Right now I'm on leave before reporting to Chattanooga. I was heading back to Earth but I heard about the pub here so I wanted to check it out."

"Have you thought about leaving Starfleet?" Harry asked.

"A few times. I'm debating taking a teaching position at the Vulcan Science Academy or Starfleet Academy."

"Come with me," Harry said. "I may have a potentially more interesting position."

Outside Campbell's office, he left Cirillia in a seat with firm orders not to run off then went in. A few minutes later, Campbell left, stopping to chat with Riker for a minute then sat down next to Cirillia to wait as Riker went in.

"Sign this NonDisclosure Agreement," Harry requested.

An hour plus of demonstrations and some questions back and forth, Riker accepted the invitation to tour Potter's Rock.

Harry, Riker, and Cirillia took the Portkey Room back to the planet and Riker was soon convinced Harry wasn't running a prank. Or insane.

~•~

When T'ryl came down for breakfast the next morning, Cirillia was sitting at the breakfast table alongside a human she didn't recognize until he turned to her and she saw the first officer of the Enterprise D. Then the incongruities made themselves noticed. His rank was wrong, his hair was parted differently from the videos she had seen of him sent to Harry, and he wore a goatee.

"T'ryl, this is Lieutenant Commander Thomas William Riker, the transporter-clone of Commander William Thomas Riker. Crazy, eh?"

"Improbable but not impossible." She gave him a kiss on the cheek then sat at his left. "Did this happen at some time in the past influencing the rank disparity?"

He nodded and explained what happened. "I'll be promoted to Commander post-retirement."

"You're retiring from Starfleet?"

"To accept the position of Commandant of the Academy," Harry told her.

She nodded then took a drink of her spiced plomeek soup. "You will be a welcome addition.

"Darby has improved upon her recipe."

"Especially since people were starting to jockey for the job," Harry said. "I hate politics."

A house-elf appeared and said, "Missy Ciri has to go back to school now."

Cirillia pouted but let the house-elf take her hand and apparate her back to the school.

"That was a house-elf?"

Harry nodded. "As a Commandant, you'll have one to help keep your place in order. Two personal assistants, and a personal guard. Probably rotating in Imperial Aurors for now then fleet security when we're up and running fully."

"How do you plan to format the command staff above the captains of ships?"

"I'm already the Fleet Admiral," Harry said. "But your advice would be helpful in evaluating those for command versus those for general staff."

"You won't be promoting Lords and Dukes and the like to captain or admiral?"

"The only royalty is me and whoever is the sitting princess. It was punishment on my wife's part for not making it here. There was a prophecy so she was fairly sure I'd make it back someday."

"She sounds hilariously vindictive."

"Eh. She gave a woman sores for life when she betrayed us to a government official. Sometimes she went too far. But she was trying to protect people.

"Anyway, no, no nepotism ranks beyond yours and Campbell's."

Riker nodded. "Well then I'm gonna meet with my new staff and see if I have any ideas to make what they have better."

He stood and asked, "Oh, do we salute?"

"When in uniform and covers are on. And covers are only on indoors when wearing a duty belt," Harry said. Some of their military protocol was coming from the U.S. Marines while their structure was naval with some American Army influences too. "There's a few manuals for you to learn in your office, Commandant."

Riker nodded and headed out. He planned to finish up his vacation on Potter's Rock then report to San Francisco for his out-processing from Starfleet.

"Oh," Harry called to him. "Make sure you get your squib wand."

~•~

Riker walked out on to the balcony of his apartment. The lack of replicator and the medieval styling made him feel like he was stranded on an alien world but the ability of Lolly, the house-elf assigned to him, had him eating better meals than anywhere he had ever eaten save a small place in Paris he had visited.

The Squib Wand—or Sqwand—was shaped like the ergonomics of a hand phaser so his aiming was good and he rather liked the device, especially since it acted as a Portkey that could get him to half a dozen places by activating the commands verbally. He preferred the materialization effect over the spinning effect but he could understand Harry's reluctance to try it. Everyone was 99.999% sure that transporters wouldn't affect the casting of magic but no one was willing to try yet.

He slipped the wand back into his drop leg holster and picked his jacket up from the bed. Unlike Starfleet uniforms, it stretched well, was a two piece that looked like three, and the cut made his butt look even better than he had, he thought, checking the lay of his jacket in the mirror. He fixed the tie's knot then buttoned the jacket and headed towards the door.

Riker picked up the cover—a field service—and plucked a little lint off, absentmindedly polishing the three pips denoting Commander in Starfleet. Rank insignia had yet to be finalized. He stepped out the door, fitting the cover so the Deathly Hallows symbol was facing left-forward and headed towards the lift.

His bodyguards fell into step behind him, silent as death and as watchful.

He was in the Academy offices—he rather liked the immense castle in the middle of nowhere, especially since he was just a walk through a fireplace or a whispered command from the villages—and pouring the incredible coffee that Molly—the house-elf in charge of the staff offices in the Academy and the house-elf he planned to requisition for his personal staff—had made as soon as he approached. His bodyguards settled in to wait as he walked into his office.

Sitting down, he picked up the MADD with his diary and checked his schedule. Significant paperwork but no meetings until three and that was in his office, the first.

It was a minute to three when there was a knock on the door and it faded away. Instead of hatches like in Starfleet buildings and festivals, the doors in the Academy were just walls that could be opened magically.

"Hello, Commander." They were still working on ranks but since no one at the academy outranked him, his current rank was fine. "We have your armour here."

"My armour?"

The vulcan and the Magitekineer—_that title's a mouthful_, Riker thought—pushed in a trolley with the same armour Harry had shown him but instead of Red and Gold, this model was all black save for the flank slats which were in purple and gold alternating with the Deathly Hallows in faux distressed blood red on the chest. "Yep. This is the flight armour for pilots, ground assault personnel, environmental suit, and anything else. You can operate in one of these bad boys for a month without having to crack it open or resupply. And you don't even need to take it off to resupply." He lifted one of the flank slats, revealing a port with a dozen different I/O slots. "This will remove waste, refresh supplies, and recycle the air."

The Vulcan placed a manual on the desk. "I greatly suggest you read this before trying it on."

"It looks a little short," he said as he walked over and saw it was a few inches shorter than him.

"One size fits all," the Vulcan said. "It automagically resizes as you step to the back to enter it."

They maneuvered it into the small anteroom between the office and the veranda. "We'll put your rank and name and insignia on it when they're finalized, Commander," the Vulcan said. "Is there anything else?"

He shook his head as he opened the manual.

"I can fly in it?!" he said aloud.

* * *

"Why must all people serve in this military?" shouted a reporter.

Harry waved his wand, silencing them temporarily. "Do you care about our people? Our world?"

"Of course!" "Yes!" "Duh" and more were all shouted back.

"Then why shouldn't you serve it? The educational requirements of the schools have shifted. You'll receive various classes to help you with your first year at the academy. You'll study at the academy for three years then you'll go to to another school, be it Officer School then a Technical School and then you'll go to your Occupational school. Four years of schooling then six years of duty with bonuses if you reenlist or extend your officer contract."

Aurors began circulating and passing out books that detailed what they would go through.

"After ten years of service you come back here."

Overhead a dozen fighters flew, trailing purple and gold smoke with fifty sets of the armour flying by in a synchronous formation.

Then the first prototype of the Mage Class—based on the NX series—flew overhead, a heptagon shaped forward hull connected by a backwards T downward hull that held the nacelles.

"The mage class is the battleship of the fleet and capable of atmospheric entry."

Seven of the armours set down in front of him, one from each of the fleets. All Black with their flank slats down in the four house colors for the respective fleets then the fifth had the slat colors in orange and black for the Nundu Fleet, the sixth was the Sirius fleet in Gray and Silver, with the seventh being the Remus fleet in Brown and Red.

* * *

Harry opened the Daily Soothsayer—his first Imperial Edict was to rename the Daily Prophet—and saw the main article was titled Imperial March Begins.

Harry had to applaud that if it was a Star Wars reference. He looked at the byline and saw it was a muggleborn. He figured it likely. Star Wars had been going through a revival recently. All fifteen movies had been turned into interactive holodeck campaigns.

_The Imperial March begins with our Emperor's latest edict. Selective Service—the forced service of Mages as military._

Harry scowled and called an assistant in. "Emilia, take a note. 'Selective Service is the program to track all eligible citizens. Conscription is the drafting of all able bodied mages capable of serving.' I'm sure I'll add more as I read."

_We are now expected to serve as foot soldiers in a bid for power._

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What was that quote about the annoying priest?"

His other assistant, Phoenix, a historian before Harry hired him, asked, "What miserable drones and traitors have I nourished and brought up in my household, who let their lord be treated with such shameful contempt by a low-born cleric?"

"Is that the right quote? I thought it was about a troublesome priest."

"That's the pop culture one. Mine is attributed to a contemporary biographer of Becket."

"Huh. I like it better. Immortalized by Americans?"

"Most likely."

He was countering the rest of the article when Riker was announced.

"Sit," he told the man. "Try the waffles. Darby makes them with caramelized golden spun sugar."

Riker put one on a plate and added sliced strawberries and freshly whipped coconut cream. "Reading what she said? She's not very nuanced in political or military theory."

Harry nodded. "Over eighty percent of the population agrees it's a necessary thing."

"I wanted to ask, how're you sourcing all the metal you need?"

"Industrial replicators and Vulcans had a large stockpile of metals they were wiling to sell for a large amount of Kevas Captain Chill came across. I guess they use them in something non-replicable?"

"Yeah, Kevas are used in their optics and Starfleet uses them for the focusing mechanisms on tractor beams. They can't be replicated since the molecules won't align properly."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Because we use magic in our replication system."

Riker leaned forward. "How does it work?"

"Imagine a billion arms that place molecules exactly. That's how ours work."

"So no replicator degradation?"

"Nope."

"Incredible. Where's T'ryl?"

"She stayed at her parents' last night since she had a meeting with her healer this morning. I was told it was illogical for me to attend the appointment."

"How different is a human from a Vulcan?" He meant dating and Harry knew that.

"Not that different."

"So someone told me about potions to enhance your sex life?" Riker asked.

"Ask Phoenix. He seems the type to need them," Harry teased. In fact Phoenix's father was the creator of two of the more popular potions.

Phoenix rolled his eyes but began writing down the ones that a muggle could safely use.

"So that explains the speed of production," Riker said.

"Now. it took a year to develop it. I was right about the Vulcans. having them apply logic to the scattershot aspect of most mage research has led to leaps that should've happened decades or centuries ago."

"I flew in my armour last night," Riker said. "It was amazing. Self-guided vehicles that are man-sized could change a lot for the Federation."

"And someday, when I'm sure the Malleus Maleficarum no longer exists, I may be willing to talk to the Federation. But if we can breed with aliens, what's to stop the Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians, Breens, and every other race that predates Federation peoples from kidnapping and forcibly breeding us? Just because we have power doesn't mean we're omnipotent."

* * *

Commodore Cantor shut off his workstation. Captain Harry X—potentially AKA Harry Potter—was back on earth, this time meeting with a number of foreign government ambassadors again.

Harry's first visit was with the Vulcan Ambassador, a former diplomat his escort—though she was still credentialed as a diplomatic envoy. The two had spent two hours in the Embassy.

His spy had overheard them discussing Vulcite, a common ore in Vulcan space.

He checked the uses of the base metal and found it was useful as a component in Klingon Disruptor cannons, polarizing hull plating and its couplers, and sculpting on Vulcan.

He ignored the last two uses when he saw Captain X enter the Klingon Embassy.

~•~

Dessel'b greeted Harry warmly, clasping his shoulders then hugging him. "Harry! Welcome back to Klingon! The operas you sent me, they were stunning! And the translations, it was as if they were written in Klingon first." The operas were written and performed by Centaurs and matched Klingon aural aesthetics of doomed heroes and star-crossed loves. "The performers, I must meet them!"

"Sadly, they belong to an order that eschews contact with the outside world," Harry only half-lied. "But I brought three new operas. And a gift for you, for your friendship and help these past few years."

The Klingon who had escorted them in stepped forward. He held out the bundle and Harry took it then presented it to the Ambassador in what he hoped was the proper Heroic Style, blade tip aimed at his own heart, the hilt presented to Dessel'b.

The Klingon took the blade by the sheath—showing he was honored by the gift instead of dishonored by grasping it by the hilt and shoving forward—then carefully pulled the blade, revealing the red-black blade and the runes on it, filled with white gold. "Beautiful workmanship. What do these marks say?"

"One of my favorite quotes by an ancient Earth general: 'Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.'"

"Ahh, yes, your Sun Tzu. Much of what he says has great wisdom. And a fitting quotation for politics. I am honored."

A cask of bloodwine was opened and he and Dessel'b drank and Harry told him about a fight where he had lost his wand and had to wrestle another wizard—though he left out the magic bits—on top of a high cliff during a raging storm replete with a foot of snow already and freezing rain.

The story was immensely popular, especially when Harry reenacted a scene with a Klingon's help, driving a training blade into the warrior's stomach and showing how he had cut the man he fought stem to stern then explained how he had used the man's own entrails to choke him to death in his anger, the man's heart taken as a trophy added to the story for the Klingon aesthetic.

When Harry awoke the next morning with a horrendous hangover, he found a crate of bloodwine for him to take home and a full set of Klingon armour and weapons.

The Klingon outside his door nodded to him. "Good morning Captain Harry of the House of Vultan."

Harry blinked. "Did you just sa—have I been adopted?"

The Klingon laughed. "Yes! You drank much last night but the rites were performed and even accounting for alcohol and you being human, you performed them with distinction! Uncle was honored you accepted, Cousin!"

Harry was given a raktjino and he drank it quickly, trying to remember the night before.

It came back in bits and pieces. Dessel'b _had_ adopted him as a son.

"I have an appointment to get to."

"Of course. We'll deliver your bloodwine and armour to your ship, Cousin Harry."

He got out of the Embassy well enough and saw the contemporary version of a taxi. He slid into the back seat and told the driver, "San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, the tower."

Harry didn't realize he had seen the same man a dozen times now as he nodded off in the back seat as the ship went up to exit the atmosphere to use its faster engines.

~•~

Forrester shook Harry's hand. "You look like you had a rough night."

"I was visiting the Klingon Embassy last night to deliver a gift and they served bloodwine. Dessel'b adopted me."

Forrester laughed. Then he saw Harry's expression. "Oh, you're serious?"

Harry nodded. "Very."

"Well, he's ruling caste so you probably won't be challenged by any warrior caste. His sons might challenge you to see if you're worthy but if Dessel'b thinks you are, they should too."

Harry shook it off. "Let's do this."

He nodded and took out his PADDs. "Computer, begin recording 'The disposition of the planets Ceded to Harry X in the Dilithium mining treaty for Gedix VII, otherwise known as the Demon Planet of Harry X.' Taking part, myself Admiral James Forrester and Captain Harry X. Amend, Commodore Harry X."

"I spoke with the people on the planet. I've elected to allow them to remain. And on reflection, the amount of planets is ridiculous to have, especially since I own a Spacedock. How about the Federation cedes the habitable moon and all equipment left on it and I'll keep the nearest planet but we can negotiate for the rest."

Forrester studied the documents on the former post in the sector. "We'll have to survey the moon to verify there isn't anything classified first but the first evac of it should have taken anything worth taking in the first place," he said, making a note on another PADD.

A hologram appeared in the room of a lieutenant. "Admiral, Commodore Harry's receiving a message from his ship. She says that there're a bunch of Klingons with stuff to load aboard."

"Tell her that they're expected," Harry said. "I'll explain later."

The lieutenant nodded. "Of course, sir."

The rest of the morning was spent evaluating the value of the planets and their potential value due to their nearness to supply lines or star bases.

At lunch, the two shook hands. Harry had his concessions—though he had two planets instead of one—he retained administership of the newly named Mennonitia, Forrester had his, and the colony on the planet would have a few dozen more mennonite groups arriving soon with Harry as their exclusive distributor of their merchandise.

As Harry walked back to Gold Dock, he wondered how everyone on the Enterprise was. he hadn't heard from them in months, since before the Klingon Civil War had begun. Then he stood still. He had just been adopted by a Klingon. Was he going to have to get involved?

* * *

Picard sat on the edge of his desk chair, staring at the stars going past.

The PADD in his hand held the topological anomaly he had infected the borg with a month ago. There were already results. The borg in this quadrant of space had entered into recursive loops and the majority of ships had self-destructed.

_How many races did I destroy? _he asked himself.

_No, _he thought as he stood_. The Collective destroyed those races. I just euthanized their victims._

He looked at the photo of himself and Beverly on their wedding day. She was staying in the quarters allocated for the Chief of Medicine aboard ship. She had greatly opposed his plan.

~•~

Beverly walked past the computer on the desk just as it beeped. She turned back and sat down, expecting a message from Wesley. Instead of Wesley appearing on the screen, she saw her first husband for half a moment before the image resolved properly and she realized it was Harry.

"Harry, how are you?"

"I realized it'd been a long time since I said hello and since I'm on Earth, I stopped by to say hi to Wes and now I'm saying hi to you."

She smiled. "Can I vent on you?"

"Of course you can." He resisted the urge to request she undress first. "You look kinda stressed."

"I can't vent to Deanna. I mean, I can but I really don't want to."

She started talking, telling him the unclassified aspects of what Picard had done.

"And then he completely ignored me and half the other staff and still did this!"

"If I were in the same room, I'd pat you on the shoulder." She snorted but smiled at that. "Oh, I met Thomas," he changed the subject. He knew she didn't want his help and having vented, she probably felt better. "He's pretty awesome. Maybe more so than Will. And tell him hi. And that so he can try to up his awesomeness."

She laughed. "He retired from Starfleet," she replied. "Took a new job but isn't talking about it. So, tell me about how Wesley was. Did he look like he's eating properly?"

"Well he has a schedule of food to eat and followed it while we had lunch so probably."

She laughed again. Their conversation was scattershot, talking about the operas he had sent her and the books she had sent him.

"I do have one bit of advice," Harry said. "My friend," he started, lying since it was actually his rule, "never went to bed angry with his wife without reminding both her and himself that he loved her. He might not speak to her all day but he still told her he loved her before bed. And only slept alone when absolutely necessary.

"Later, Bev."

She thought about what he said then activated a channel between her quarters and Picard's office. "Beverly?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Harry says hello." She ended the comm and changed to go workout with Deanna. Now she felt like discussing it with her.

~•~

Deanna changed into her own workout outfit along with Brenna and soon the three women were in the holodeck, stretching in preparation for their tai chi then self defense class with Worf.

"Harry says hello," she told them. "Get this: you remember T'ryl?" They both nodded. "She's pregnant with twins. Harry's."

Brenna gasped. "Twins!" while Deanna smiled. "I still can't believe he basically shows up and is dating a Vulcan less than 24 hours later."

"Aye, Will wouldn't shut up about it," Brenna said and Deanna nodded.

"Acts like Harry's some sort of god for dating a Vulcan woman."

"He's married to both of us," Brenna said. "That's much more exciting."

"Harry thought so," Beverly replied. "I noticed when he met you both." While he had met Deanna in sickbay, he had ran into her again a couple days later while she and Brenna were going to breakfast together.

"You noticed?"

"He was wearing an off-duty uniform," Beverly protested. "They don't hide anything, especially the fact he didn't wear underwear and his butt and those abs looked like they were sculpted from marble!"

They all laughed as Worf walked in. The Klingon slowed, distrustful for a moment then rumbled a good morning as the rest of the class began to arrive.

~•~

With their workout over and everyone else gone, Brenna leaned in to kiss Deanna as the heat of the sauna relaxed their muscles.

The raven haired beauty soon found herself lying back, her wife kissing her most sensitive places, stroking her to a cresdendo that—

Was interrupted by a comm signal. "Commander Troi to the bridge."

"Have fun," a frustrated Brenna muttered. "I'll just be taking care of meself."

She continued to do so as an equally frustrated Deanna pulled on her skant uniform and grabbed her boots.

~•~

Riker raised an eyebrow as he saw his wife struggling to pull a boot on still in the turbolift then she ducked out, saying, "Captain?"

"A trader named Revals says he has something that pertains to your family," Picard said. "He'll be rendezvousing with us in approximately twenty minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Picard left the bridge to Riker and he sat in the command set then leaned over. "Nice uniform choice," he whispered.

"Someone disabled my other suits in the replicator," she whispered back.

Riker grinned and turned to watch their approach to the rendezvous.

~•~

Sure that he was telling the truth and the item was to be held by the heirs of the fifth house—a pair of rather gaudy two meter vases—she transported over to verify them.

The trader's ship fired a beam at the nacelles of the Enterprise then went to warp.

~•~

"Engineering, report," Riker said once he ordered the computer to shut off the alarm.

"It's a mess," came La Forge's voice as Picard entered the bridge. "Whatever that was, it caused a cascading failure on all the interlocks and the failsafes on the port nacelle. We're dead in the water for at least forty minutes."

"Faster Geordi, Deanna was just kidnapped!" He turned to the captain. "Permission to go after him in a runabout!"

Picard nodded and Riker tapped his comm badge. "RIker to transporter room one. Site to site to main shuttlebay."

He disappeared in a beam of silver.

In the shuttlebay he got in the closest runabout, the Willamette. He took off without doing a normal checklist, trusting in the last crewman to have done their job properly and went to warp barely outside the Enterprise's own warp field.

Sensor data from the Enterprise swarmed into the tactical computer on the runabout and he maneuvered so he was behind the other ship and slowly catching up. It was going at warp 4.95 while he was maxing the runabout at warp 5.01.

~•~

Deanna grabbed the trader's disrupter and slammed it to the corner of the console, hearing the sickly sound of a shattering wrist then his scream of pain as the disrupter fell after it blew a hole in the bulkhead. Her next strike was a kite blow to the solar plexus—which she hoped he had—then a knee to the groin and finally grabbing his head to slam his face into the corner of the console. When she lifted his head back up, most of his teeth stayed embedded in the console and a spray of blood spattered her face.

"I am never again complaining about Worf's workout routines," she muttered.

She breathed deeply, slowing her inhalations until they came steadily, letting the ship fly on autopilot for the moment as she tried to figure out what to do next. She saw rope and began looping it around him then saw a winch in the shuttle's bridge/cargo area.

~•~

Riker fired two torpedoes and had them explode just in front of the ship. "Heave to and prepare to be boarded," he growled, not realizing just how he sounded at that moment.

His anger faded from his face when Deanna appeared on the screen, silver-blue blood staining her uniform and face but not mussing the delicate beauty of her raised eyebrow as she asked, "Turning to piracy, Bill?"

"Are you alright?"

She nodded and turned to look at the owner of the ship hanging from his feet behind her. "He might not be."

Riker smiled. "Thank the Four Deities."

"I'm bringing her to impulse," Deanna told him. "There're a handful of other women and some children in stasis jars."

~•~

Worf nodded approvingly as Deanna finished relating how she had taken control of the ship. She was sitting on a bed in sickbay with Riker and Brenna leaning on a wall nearby and Picard and Crusher closest to her while Worf stood in the doorway of the officer's exam room.

"Well, I think Worf's training program is a success," Picard said at the end.

"I'd like to put him in for a commendation, captain."

"That's not necessary," Worf tried to say but the captain cut him off.

"I do believe you're right. We'll reroute to the nearest starbase to drop off our prisoner and our other patients then we'll get back to heading to the Expanse."

"The manifest said he's affiliated with the Orion syndicate," Worf said. "But he's not an Orion. Nor any species in our database."

"His blood says he's got at least nine different species making him up," Crusher supplied. "Four of which I don't recognize. He's primarily Reman though."

* * *

Really, THAT'S how Deanna should have dealt with her kidnapping situations, not standing around holding a sheet. Just because she's a counselor they have her in some delicate wilting flower crap. If Deanna handled a sitch like that, imagine how Yar would've taken him apart.

* * *

Harry stepped off the Alcyone and handed over the computer core to one of the engineers on the Spacedock. "She'll be well cared for, sir."

Harry nodded. Allie was becoming the main computer for the Spacedock and they were going to integrate her magically with their new system they hoped, allowing for every ship to have access to the same database securely via heavily modified looky-talky mirror-paintings designed to be I/O for the ships of the fleet.

The Alcyone itself would be drydocked permanently on the the planet as a new ship was created for him, a larger yacht, based on a horseshoe shape, designed to comfortably carry a hundred passengers with a number of magically hidden smuggling panels.

Landor followed him off the yacht and patted the hull. "Bye Alcyone. Don't worry, your replacement isn't a slight on you, you've just had too many people break onto you and place tracking beacons."

Harry put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. "You'll be back in a pilot's seat soon, Rosalyn. Now, let's go home." Over her employment term, she had become somewhat of a sport flirt friend to him instead of just an employee.

When they arrived back on planet, Harry realized they needed a dock or some sort of meeting point for returning soldiers to be met by loved ones. Something much bigger than the Floo stations in the villages, with physical docks to land the ships—his were all atmospheric flight capable unlike Starfleet's largest ships.

He gestured forward one of his aides and repeated the requirements then sent her off to talk them over with Hank. He'd put together a good team to evaluate and build once an artistic architect designed it from Hank's specs.

Another aide approached and an envelope was held up. "The votes are in."

"Call a press meeting."

~•~

Harry smiled as he stood at the lectern. Unlike muggles which required multiple microphones that sent the data back to recorders for various news outlets—even in the 24th century—his news outlets had dictation quills and scrolls setup in a compartment of the lectern so they could concentrate on writing down their own thoughts and queries as the event happened.

"Good morning everyone. I'm not in the mood to take questions today—sore throat," he said, "so if you'll send in queries in writing this afternoon I'll have them back to you by dusk."

He opened a roll of parchment and read the cuing words.

"Good morning, citizens. Yesterday evening on returning to the planet from my very successful negotiations, I was given this." He held up the envelope. "Within this is the name of the fleet and the military force as voted on by the people. While we know which ones it was broken down to in the rounds of voting prior, we finally know what name the majority like." Harry undid the seal and hoped his expression didn't betray how betrayed he felt. No matter how apt the name was.

"Well, it seems that with a ninety percent vote, the winning fleet name is 'The Hallowed Fleet.' Not bad. Not the one I liked but it was top two," Harry lied. That was the one he had hated the most but it was his own fault for leaning into using the hallows symbol as his personal crest. "And our military force is now known as 'Army of the Hallows.' The submitting winner of the names is Cirroc Brooks, a sixth year at Beauxbatons. Congrats, Cirroc." The young man would receive the best broom on the market, an apprenticeship with any master he wanted to work with, and if he just squeaked under officer requirements, he'd make it into officer school. "I'll also be having dinner with him and his family over the winter break."

Harry added a few more thoughts on how officers should be listen in stories then walked off to find T'ryl was waiting for him. She held up her fingers. When he touched his to hers, he felt her emotional state—while she looked as serene as ever—was embroiled.

Because few of his people yet spoke Vulcan, he asked, "What's wrong?" in Vulcan.

"I do not know. I tried meditating but could not calm my mind."

"Think you need angry sex?" he asked hopefully.

"It could potentially help," she said after some thought. "Yes, we should try that."

Fifteen minutes later, she lay down beside him, her head using his shoulder as a pillow. "Yes, that did help calm me some."

"Awesome, call me the Vulcan Whisperer."

"I do not understand that reference."

Harry picked up his MADD and called up the book the Horse Whisperer and handed it over.

"I still do not understand the reference," she said after reading the detailed synopsis.

"It's an archaic pop culture reference. We would call someone an x whisperer if they handle the variable others couldn't."

"Ah. This statement makes me think the correct response on my part would likely be indignation."

"But one would have to take into account the emotional relationship. Most women would roll their eyes or smack their significant other for a joke like that."

"Humans are so illogical."

"So are Vulcans," Harry replied. "Now, how do you feel?"

"More centered. I am sure my meditations will take now."

"Speaking of emotions, you do realize our children have to be raised as humans, right?"

"For their emotional outbursts to help trigger magic? Yes, I understand."

He nodded. "Good. I had thought they could make a choice at eleven, to continue as Human or to embrace their Vulcan heritage."

"The writings of Syren Arik show that emotions help fuel magic," she said, "but a magical Vulcan mindset might lead to new insights."

"Do you want to try a moving meditation?" he asked.

"Your martial art?"

Harry grinned and placed her hand on his slowly tumescing organ.

"Oh." She gave a slight nod. "Yes."

~•~

As Harry slept, T'ryl sat on the bed beside him, her mind now calmed of the issues she had been having. She realized now that it was not the sex—though the endorphins had been useful—but the discussion on how to raise the children finally being vocalized. Their being raised human until eleven was logical. When they would receive their letters.

_Perhaps it would be logical to allow the children to live a dissident lifestyle, _she thought_. But would the Vulcan People allow the lifestyle or would our children be unwelcome on Vulcan?_

~•~

Harry awoke to find T'ryl still asleep. He hesitated to wake her. She only slept four hours a night which combined with the three hours of meditation was enough for a Vulcan to operate on without issue.

"Have you had enough sleep?" he finally asked.

She opened an eye. "Yes." Her other eye opened. "You smell rather unpleasant."

"So do you," he replied. "Shower with me?"

She nodded and stood.

Harry watched her walk to the bathroom then followed.

After an hour long shower, the two sat down for breakfast. Both ate as they worked, only occasionally speaking.

"Sire? A communication is coming in for you," an aide said as she came in to the dining room. "Campbell says it's from your father?"

Harry sighed. "So last week while on Earth, I went through some rites while very drunk and Dessel'b adopted me. I'll have to introduce you." T'ryl nodded as the aides cleared the room after putting up illusions that covered the walls, hiding the murals of magicals doing great things through the centuries. Now the walls were white.

He touched a few runes on the table and a screen descended. Dessel'b's face filled the screen. "Son!"

"I actually needed to speak to you about that."

"Ahh, ahh. You have done the rites, you are my son. But you are not required to do too much. There are a few things if you're ever on Qonos or a colony world but nothing distressing to humans.

"I am sending you a copy of the rites." Harry nodded. "Now, I have an appointment with the Human ambassador."

"Wait, before you go, two questions. May I still call you Dessel'b? I had parents I was very proud of."

"Of course! You told me they died defending you! Your parents died with great honor! You must only identify me as your father, you need not call me that."

Harry nodded again. "How difficult would it be for me to purchase a Vor'cha or K'vort class?"

Dessel'b laughed. "As an outsider, very difficult. as a son of an Imperial Ruling Class family? Easily done. I will arrange it and let you know the cost, my son."

He gestured T'ryl forward and she stepped into the view of the commscreen. "T'ryl, this is my father, Ambassador Dessel'b of the House of Vultan. Dessel'b, this is former Deputy-Ambassador T'ryl of Vulcan, my mate and currently carrying my twins."

"We have met before," T'ryl said. "At the Romulan Embassy six years ago during their Cultural Event."

He gave a slight nod. "I believe I remember. It is an honor to meet the mother of my grandchildren. When are you expecting to give birth?"

"June fifteenth."

He nodded then turned at the guttural sounds. "I must go. The next time you travel to Earth make sure I know in advance to make time for dinner."

Harry nodded and the screen shut off.

"Why did you want to buy a ship?"

"I wanted to buy one before but i doubted I could. Now that I'm adopted, I figured I could use that to get access to technology I wanted without resorting to the black market."

"The black market would likely lead to unnecessary deaths."

"I know, why I didn't go that way." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You know, you get real sexy when you get all logical."

"That is an incredibly illogical statement."

He sat down and activated the log of the rituals as he pulled her into his lap. The two watched Harry's drunken antics and singing and laughing with the Klingons until finally Dessel'b grasped Harry's shoulders after Harry told a sterilized version of his life that he had created that correlated to the 'last of his generational ship' story. "You need a father," he told Harry. "I shall adopt you!"

Harry grimaced. "I feel bad, my life is a lie."

"A lie to protect yourself using the truth as a basis," she reminded him.

"That would explain why I was hurting so badly," he said as he watched the Rite of Ascension and the painstiks jabbed into him as he walked a gauntlet of klingons. "I thought I got into a real fight instead of a demonstrative one."

"I do not believe you would survive an actual fight with a Klingon," she told him. "I wonder how my parents will feel when I tell them you're now a Klingon?"

Harry raised an eyebrow then realized that was supposed to be humorous. He squeezed her hips. "Funny girls get tickled," he whispered as he kissed her neck and ran his fingers along her flank. He knew exactly where she was most ticklish. Her snort of laughter was quickly silenced as she regained control but the flicker of the smile on her lips remained until she kissed him.

* * *

Cirillia had escaped the boring grownup talk and was wandering around the castle.

She found a new room and wandered in. Within were all kinds of armor she had never seen before. "Klingon Defense Force Armour with sash of the House of Vultan," she read aloud. "Shiny."

She moved on, staring up at the Imperial armour in Red and Gold. She had been given Iron Man books so she knew what it was based on. While the books hadn't been that interesting to her she couldn't wait until she was old enough to join the military. She wanted to protect the people of her world. Her mother didn't like the idea but her father had said he would be proud to see her serving.

She touched it and it looked down at her. A rough voice said "I am not to be touched, Princess."

"Sorry!" she squeaked then turned at the sound of the Emperor's laughter, his wand aimed at the armour.

"Sorry," he said as she glared at him. "But it was too hilarious not to."

"What's that armour?"

"That is the armour of a Klingon warrior who is a member of a royal house," Harry told her, leaving off the adoption part. "The head of the family gave it to me. He's also arranged for the purchase of two of their ships for a picket force to protect Peverell One."

"What's a picket force?"

"A small unit that maintain a watch," he told her as she pointed at the battleth. "That is a Klingon sword," he told her. "They have swords more like ours too but that one is historically famous, designed for close quarters combat like on a ship." He made a mental note to buy some more klingon weaponry to add to the display of weapons that would be used with the armour and to do the same to the other armours on display.

"Your dad told me you want to join the military." She was the only person who was not to be drafted for service.

"I do. I want to help protect people like you do. Daddy says that you do everything you do because it protects the most people."

He smiled. "That's a pretty good definition of why I do what I do. I'm going to tell you a secret."

Her eyes widened but she leaned forward as he knelt next to her. "There was a prophecy," he told her softly. "That's why we need a military."

He tapped her forehead, sealing that in her memory so she couldn't speak about it with anyone save him. "Your dress is very pretty," he told her. "Let's go back to the party."

She took his hand and chattered on as they returned to the party.

~•~

T'ryl and Harry were shown into her parents' home and sat down on the couch. "Good evening, Sonar," Harry said.

He nodded. "Welcome to our home," he replied as he sat across from them. "Dinner will be served in nineteen minutes. May I offer you refreshments?" He sounded oddly formal to Harry compared to other times he had visited their homes, here or on Vulcan.

"You may," his daughter said. "Kasa juice."

"Okay, I'm going to cut to the chase. Why are you two being so formal?" Harry asked after a few more minutes of very formal talking.

"You are correct, daughter. He did say something before ten minutes passed. You have won this wager."

"You did that for a bet?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"I am writing a holonovel. I elected to use you as a basis for the main character," Sonar said. "I wished to see how you would act in a certain situation to better shape the character. I have found that Terrans are less effective at telling than they are at showing."

"What's it about?" he asked, ignoring the statement. It was most likely true.

"A murder takes place on a space station where the character based on you is a marshall as shown in Terran films from the 'Wild West' I believe it is called. The space station will be so large the people believe they're on an actual planet."

"Oh. I'd be happy to read your draft to give you advice."

"Your input would be welcomed."

Harry took a sip of the drink. "It's interesting how many of your fruits make such potent and good liquors."

"Your liquor industry has begun importing our fruits," he replied. "Toral is opening a import/export concern to better deal."

"Perhaps we should have an embassy here," Harry thought aloud. "Technically, the Vulcan government knows about us as a subspecies after all. It wouldn't be a huge leap. But we wouldn't really have a need for an embassy on Vulcan since there wouldn't be people trying to visit."

"A Vulcan consulate on the planet would be a logical plan. As such, there has been no emergencies but there may be a time when one is needed."

Harry nodded. "Please have whoever is most knowledgeable about it write up a plan and submit it to your people. I'll have a request for a mission prepared. Maybe we do need one on Vulcan just for economic reasons, too. I'll set the InfilCorps to working on it."

Sonar nodded. "I will help them prepare."

~•~

Harry apparated into Diagon Alley and hefted the labrys he carried, an old weapon the Potters had had since 787 when the family was Viking raiders.

The people in the Alley saw him heading down the cobblestones, a dark look on his face as he glared at the people dispersing in front of him.

He found the front door of the Daily Prophet and kicked the door open then slammed the axe into the reception's desk. "I have a complaint to make."

The holonovel ended and T'ryl moved towards the axe sticking out of the desk. "Computer, change sequence so the axe goes through the desk until it reaches the haft."

"Acknowledged."

"Reset sequence and begin from door being opened."

Harry kicked the door open and stalked in. The axe slammed into the desk and was buried up to the wood. "I have a complaint to make."

"Computer, add scowl sequence nine to Harry's face and anger expression eleven to his eyes."

She gave a short nod. He now looked truly angry over what had happened.

Allie's hologram appeared, this time solid instead of her usual translucent image. "Your time on the holodeck is up in one minute. Do you want to extend your reservation?"

"No. Lock the file under my personal encryption. I will work on it again during my next appointment time."

She pulled on her jacket and left the holodeck.

On the promenade, she stopped to watch a pair of Andorians juggling knives back and forth in tight arcs then she continued on to the command deck.

There she used the portkey room to return to the castle and went to take her personal conveyance to what had become known as Little Vulcan.

As Harry was busy with other issues, she elected to have lunch there.

Wizards and Witches were walking around and a few nodded to her. While she was just another Vulcan to most and her carrying Harry's children was unknown, she was recognized by some as one of his assistants.

As she ordered her salad, a thought she had been having often came to mind. The two never spoke of their relationship, there was no need after all. When they touched, her high psi skills and his own mind-reading skills allowed them a type of communal mind in private moments. It was intimate and something she would miss when their relationship ended. When she had described it to her mother, her mother had called it much the same as a Bond though without the link that developed, allowing for long distance telepathy. Her mother had informed her she had felt her father's near death when he had been on a colony world when they were still less than a year married.

She thought about the possibility of their being married and bonding. Vulcans had an ancient history of harems for rulers and poly marriages in certain clans before the bonds were able to be formed. And poly marriages did not end when logic became the new passion. Vulcan sociological records showed that on average a triad bonding happened once a generation.

T'ryl decided that logically she could participate in one but there had to be a logical reason for it. Even if that logic was personal, three people electing to share their lives, it was enough.

~•~

"Harry," she said upon entering the room.

Harry nodded then turned and she kissed him briefly and her lip twitched as he touched her extended abdomen.

"It is not logical for you to do that every time you see me."

"It's not logic, it's me reveling in my sexual potency. Now imagine how I was when Fleur and Hermione were pregnant at the same time."

Harry laughed as her forehead creased momentarily.

"I was speaking with your wife's painting last night. She didn't remember the conversation we had six months ago."

"They don't learn. They can only be taught by their painter or the person who is the subject. It's why I avoid them. They're not my wives. They're shadows of the people I was married to."

He nodded.

"Your avoidance is logical."

He reached out and and she responded, touching fingers. They were alone. She allowed the faintest of smiles to grace her face and he smiled. "You look beautiful."

"I dress to an aesthetic that pleases you," she admitted.

"If you did that, you'd remove your knickers."

"I wore none today."

"Prove it."

T'ryl lifted her dress up then tugged her tights down, showing that she wore no undergarments beneath.

"Let's go to bed," he suggested.

"I would be amenable to that." She was particularly aroused due to the pregnancy.

After nearly an hour of sexual calisthenics, Harry decided to ask a question that had been on his mind for months. "Is oral sex logical?"

"Oral sex when attempting to have children would be illogical. It is logical to perform fellatio if you desire sexual gratification and I am unwilling to copulate but am willing to help you. Or as a precursor to actual sex. Sex is intimacy. Intimacy need not be logical, even among logical beings."

"So is swallowing logical?"

"Spitting it out would only necessitate cleaning it up. And your semen is not wholly unpleasant. While I can taste the urea, citric acid, phosphorous, potassium, and phosphorylcholine, the fructose content is high enough that it tastes like an earth fruit."

"That's actually why I started eating pineapple back on Earth. Hermione heard it made it taste better and she rather enjoyed blowing me. And since I liked having blowjobs, I kept eating pineapples."

"That is logical."

He kissed her. "So, want to logically blow me?" he asked hopefully.

She kissed him again then worked her way down his body, dropping light kisses and nibbles as she went.

([{}])

T'pau stalked through the gardens, following the trail her master had lain for her.

It became stronger then she leapt through the bush and found herself staring at Harry, a large hunk of raw meat in his hand. "Good girl."

The steak was tossed to her and she ate it gleefully as Harry cleaned up the trail.

He sat down and scratched her between the ears. "Well, you passed that test. I used an ampoule that gave off less than eleven parts per billion every second. Good girl."

She made her huffing sound of pleasure as she burrowed into his side.

"Let's go." he led her back to the castle.

She immediately took off to patrol the corridors as he took the MADD held out to him by his aide, Sarinja. "Is she done training?"

"Well she's trained to track, protect, hunt, and dig for truffles. And the normal tricks most people teach trainable pets. And she knows how to use a toilet. That was just for laughs." Sarinja laughed. "Not sure what else to teach her."

"Sire, we were wondering something. Could the Imperial Aurors start using our armour now?"

"Of course. Have them all done with their house colors on the slats but no helmets on. And the sidearms affixed but wands are, of course, the proper tool to use."

She nodded. "As you command."

He watched her go then remembered. "Sarinja, didn't you marry recently? Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon?"

"Hela's working on the dock," she said as she turned back to him. "We're going when that's done."

"Ahh then congratulations. Where do you plan to go?"

"His parents own a small cottage on Paradise Island's northern archipelago. We're staying for three weeks."

He nodded and walked away, making a note to give her a month there. It was supposed to last a full moon after all.

* * *

Harry studied the reports. They had just finished the first of their ships based on the defiant class design. Instead of the vaguely cross shaped hull, theirs were heptagonal hulls designed to link up so that a squadron of the ships was a spiral design.

He headed to the waiting vehicle and passed the reports to Phoenix. "Did you arrange it?"

"Done. When she arrives, she'll find a very nice bottle of champagne, some choice little nibbles, and a note explaining they have an extra week."

He nodded and got into the car. "Tell T'ryl i'll be back in a couple hours."

Phoenix nodded and turned.

~•~

Harry looked down at the top of the first completed ship in the hidden bay. The Sapir class ship was completed and named the IHF Sapir as the prototype of the class, it took the Class name as its Service name.

A hundred meters on each side, it was only slightly bigger than the class that gave them the idea—the Defiant—and had seven hooks on its bottom side that could grasp the seven eyes on the top side he was looking at. Each side had a pair of phaser banks and two torpedo bays as well as grappling connectors so the ships could also link side-to-side.

He turned to look at the projection of a Sapir class tower breaking apart and connecting to the skeletal orb of the Carrier class ship, looking like a poorly designed football.

The arms retracted as he looked back and he saw during the time he had been distracted the parquet insert of the name and registry numbers had been done IHF Sapir MSC-0001. The Fighters would have their registry numbers be MFC for Mage Fighter Construction then two variable letters for their construction generation—all current fighters were AA—followed by five numbers starting at 00001, their construction sequence.

~•~

They walked through the ship, Hank and the other designers pointing out interesting bits.

"Since this is the prototype, we didn't use the woods we wanted to," Hank apologized. "So the paneling looks a bit iffy. But they've got the full spells the real paneling wood. We'll strip this out and replace it later."

"Don't," Harry said. "It's got character." He ran his fingers along the bulkhead where four different types of wood were side-by-side, their differences not hidden by the stain used. He opened an access panel and saw the magical version of a power conduit, an unbreakable glass tube filled with blue fire. Underneath were more conduits that were I/O, and various other necessary units for ship-life.

"The officers quarters are three by four meters as specified and cannot be magically expanded," Kelar confirmed. "Each section has an enlisted quarters that will hold seven as specified. Crew complement of fifty-six to seventy-seven if officers share."

Harry nodded. "I hope hot-bunking won't ever be required."

The weapons compartments only got a cursory inspection. The engines were what he wanted to see.

It was a cathedral. The center of the ship held an orb in the center, made of interlocking dilithium crystals—all less than starship-grade—each engraved and cut to fit into the dome perfectly. Instead of the dilithium being used to direct the matter-anti-matter streams to fuel an annihilation plant that powered the warp engines, these crystals directed streams of magicite and anti-magicite to come together and create chaos in a controlled magical field, creating an enormous amount of magical potential for use in the magical phasers and magical engines.

Underneath and above the orb were two banks of 777 interconnected sheets of low-grade dilithium, melted and poured into molds to create the sheets. From each sheet a cable came towards the orb, holding it in place magically while a field of magic semi-obscured it all unless one ore rose-colored goggles that protected the eyes from the magical light given off while allowing a magitekineer to see what he was looking at.

The walls were a million panels of dilithium panels, each magically interconnected.

When Harry got close, he recognised a few snippets of his own initial runic warp field design. His fingers traced a path that was much more efficient than his original design, encompassing the ship only instead of the massive orb his had been. Other panels related the the ship's other requirements: weapons, structural integrity, atmosphere production, and so much more.

"What's this panel?" Harry asked. He recognized the runic array for house-elves but little else.

"Resupply panel," Hank said, looking at the number on it. "Allows for the house-elves to teleport food onto the ship."

Harry nodded.

"And shields?"

"Still working those out," a magitekineer said.

We can stop a phaser on stun but ship-to-ship is still too energetic," said their Vulcan shield expert who was quickly becoming an expert on ancient runes. "Sire, may I suggest utilizing the new moon as a testing ground for the shields? We have had… mishaps here."

Harry nodded. He was well informed about the mishaps. Four mages injured, one dead. He thanked Merlin it was the dead mage's fault. He had still visited the woman's widow and informed her that it had all been an accident and new precautions were in place so it would never happen again.

"Starfleet should be done evaluating it in a week. We'll move this bad boy there once we build a dock and hide it via Fidelis possibly. Or just a camouflage enchantment."

~•~

Harry ended up going to the torpedo production bay. Instead of the massive arms, here dozens of house-elves with no positions were carefully assembling the torpedoes in assembly lines.

He passed them, slowing and admiring the work of a few aloud. They all worked so carefully that every torpedo was to specifications that even Starfleet couldn't maintain in a production line.

Every torpedo was to be fitted with a collar of charged magicite and a runic portkey array designed to allow them to pass shields but those designs were not going well, Harry learned. The portkey and charged magicite were going to make each of the torpedoes cost over fifty million galleons apiece to continue the research with the required materials.

Harry sighed. "Backburner the research," he told them. "We can pick it up again someday if necessary but the cost is too high now. I've basically bankrupted myself doing this. If we can't figure out how to make this make some money, we're in trouble."

"Piracy?" Hank suggested, a rather hopeful sound to his voice.

Kelar raised an eyebrow.

"He's joking," Harry said. "Though breaking the Orion Syndicate open like a piggy bank…."

Hank explained a piggy bank to the two Vulcans in the group who both nodded as Harry stroked his beard in thought.

"How do you think the Galaxy would look on us if we broke the Orions and humbled the Cardassians?"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N(writer related): This is a [couple] day/s late, i apologize for that. The first day's lateness is due to Star Trek Online and my not looking at a calendar. If there's other days lateness, it's because I recently won Halo 5—which the free days of play recently revitalized my interest in the series after two or three basically killed it—and expect to receive it soon. And taking care of my grandmother, of course.

For those who have an xbox one and are playing Star Trek Online, my gamertag is Saakeeotg. Not really a chatty person when gaming since it's my escape from reality but say hi if you want to, I may post screenshots of my ships (Hallowed D, Hallowed D II so far) somewhere with an easy way to find them.

A/N(story related): The replies to reviews are up in my forum. I'm also creating two new posts in the forum in regard to each story. Are you a tvtroper? Do you enjoy that site? I'd like to compile a list of the tropes I've used in my stories so if you are, hit up the forum and add to the thread discussing the relevant story. Or if you're a tvtroper and want to start an actual page for a story there, go ahead.

A/N(writer related): Also, hit up my story Stranger in a Strange Land and suggest potential crossover elements. I decided to make it a mega crossover where each chapter is a new character being imported into the minecraftverse and eventually finding their way to the safety of the castle Harry's built.

* * *

Anderson Coop and Stace Reemer dropped their packs on the floor and fell into heaps, the sand and dust spreading off them as they did so.

"And next year we have to do that for a whole month." Stace moaned.

"Sshh," Anderson replied. "Dead."

The rest of the Imperial Cadets that were assigned to the small block or rooms that were off the sitting room they were in trudged in as well and did the same, a few letting out groans while the last instantly fell asleep.

"Get up!"

The Imperial Cadets struggled to their feet at the insistent Auror's voice as she came in to the room.

"Too slow! Pushups until you puke!"

A mutter of dissent came but they all dropped and began doing pushups until Coop did vomit. She kept them going as he lay with his face in it until another did so.

"Get your gear in the cleaner, your room cleaned up, and when I check your wands, i don't want to see a recent spell on it!"

She left the room.

Anderson and the other cadet who vomited did the cleanup of the floors as Stace and another recruit got their packs undone for them and put away their supplies.

"Why do we have to do survival training in a desert?" Stace muttered. "We have magic. And we'll supposed to have armour so we don't have to worry about all that."

Anderson reminded her that they had both signed a contract and the contract necessitated they learn key skills for officers. "We'll be Ensigns Coop and Coop of the Hallows," he reminded her and got a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm still not taking your name," she teased him.

~•~

Riker bit the inside of his cheek as he watched a dozen Imperial Cadets with twenty-five kilogram packs on their backs, running alongside a Vulcan who was calling out a cadence as they ran. They looked haggard, soaked in sweat. The Vulcan looked as if he had just stepped off bridge duty after getting hit by a _small_ water balloon.

When they got closer and he heard what the Vulcan was saying, Riker had to escape back into his office.

"WHEN I CAME OUT OF MY MOTHERS WOMB!" The Vulcan instructor sang.

"WHEN I CAME OUT OF MY MOTHERS WOMB!" they yelled back, though much more raggedly than their instructor did.

"I FOUND MYSELF IN THE DELIVERY ROOM!"

"I FOUND MYSELF IN THE DELIVERY ROOM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ALL SO TIRED?! I'M ON MILE THIRTY, YOU'RE ONLY ON MILE THREE!"

"Where did you find a vindictive Vulcan?!" Riker asked lieutenant M'pela, his Vulcan aide and a former Starfleet officer as well.

"We watched a number of training films including one called Full Metal Jacket that the Emperor suggested for the Instructors to watch. It was rather illogical but there were many elements of the cinematography that were very good."

Riker bit the inside of his cheek again. _Harry's making Vulcans into film snobs?!_

He couldn't stop it, Riker started laughing again at the mental image of Vulcans throwing handfuls of popcorn at the screen of bad movies. M'pela raised an eyebrow and went to get a glass of water for the Commandant. He had seen the man nearly choke after laughing a number of times before.

* * *

_Dear Grandpa Emperor_, Cirillia started her letter. She knew she was supposed to use all the proper titles but she also knew that Grandpa hated that.

_When I was at home over Winter Break I talked with Cousin Clint. He's at the Imperial Academy now and told me about it there but he also told me just how different it is here. He said at Hogwarts he didn't have exercise classes, martial arts classes, flight trainers, or the engram training we're getting._

_Will you come have dinner with us at the school? Professor Carrow said that he would love to have you come talk to the school about the Academy._

She was about to put quill to paper again when the door was slammed open and the rest of her dorm mates piled into the room, giggling madly.

"All the first years are having a tea party in the armoury. You want to come?"

Cirillia nodded and left the dorm along with the other girls.

* * *

Harry was surrounded by Klingons, a nightmare for most first year Starfleet cadets. Harry, though, mostly felt curiousity as the youngest females in the group, a pair of twins, eyed him like he wasn't their brother.

He turned to the eldest brother, Vor. "I really thought I'd end up having to fight at least one of you. I studied the battleth for the past six months!" They all laughed and he was slapped on the back. "Kinda disappointed, actually."

"I will test you on the battleth," Vor said. "But father's explanation and the trials showed us he made a good choice. And you wear the armour of our House well, little brother."

"Why a Vulcan?" one of the sisters—Harry thought it was Telsa—asked.

Harry looked over to T'ryl where she stood, holding a glass of synthwine and talking to a Romulan deputy-ambassador and an Andorian cultural attache, her other hand on her protruding stomach. The dinner they had been invited to was not just for family but also for those taking part in a cultural event at Ketel One, a science planet staffed by personnel from all the disparate empires but primarily a Klingon agricultural colony.

"I like smart women who can bench press me."

He had to explain what bench press meant and his adoptive brothers laughed.

Harry and the sons of Dessel'b were ordered over to where the bloodwine casks stood and their mugs redipped to refill them. Harry hoped his anti-intoxicant charm held up. "Did you see the sword your brother gifted me?! It's a thing of beauty. I killed tonight's Targs with it. It handles exquisitely!" He gestured towards the blade where it hung in between two black battleths.

Vor took the blade down and examined it closely. "What alloy is this?"

"I'm calling it folded potian alloy at the moment," Harry said. "It uses vulcan, klingon, and terran metals then I quenched it in molten copper, oil, then the final quench is in blood."

"It seems a fine metal to make a D'k tahg from," said Kip—a name that Harry had had a very difficult time not laughing at when introduced—as he moved closer.

"I'm trying my hands at a mek'leth with it," Harry told them.

"Is that what you do?" the other sister—Janli—asked. "A swordsmith?"

"No. I run a trading consortium," he said. "Well, the people I hired do. I am doing well enough I can have fun."

"Obviously well enough," Vor said. "We delivered a bird of prey and a battle cruiser to your station last month."

Harry looked up. "The bird of prey is station keeping above us. Starfleet threw a FIT when I decloaked just outside of the system boundary." Landor adored piloting the ship and after testing his range, Harry found he could apparate from the ship to the planet with a passenger easily and with a specialized glamour, he could fake a beamout. He refused to try a transporter until absolutely necessary.

They had repainted the Bird-of-Prey ice-white with red and gold stylized feathers. With the engines retuned to emit their light in a red spectrum the ship looked dangerous—though it was eight percent less efficient—even more so than the green of the Klingon Empire. The name Hedwig was close to H'dweg, a klingon word for Silent Death—though the computer had said that the root word may have been Quiet Death, making the word mean a Lonely Death[without Honor]. Harry had asked a Klingon on the station when he was doing the name search and had lucked out. The Kilingon's brother was a historian and had refuted the computer's details with a much more detailed etymological history that left Harry reeling. At the end the historian said Harry's name was a fine choice after learning it had been the name of a pet bird that was also a raptor.

~•~

Landor was mildly bummed out to be missing a party but mostly relieved to be missing a political shindig. Instead she was on the bridge, relaxing in the modified captain's chair—covered with nundu skin and with numerous comfort charms on it, watching a movie Harry had suggested, Operation Petticoat.

The crew—five magitekineers and four former starfleet officers—were in the middle of a floating refit, changing out the technical components for magitek versions and building up the skew anti-magic fields necessary to keep the other devices running while the cloaking field was studied. With enough time, Harry and the magitekineers were all sure that a planetary sized field could be created to hide a whole planet if necessary. Harry was more interested in being able to run a cloaking device at the same time as the weapons for now.

A slamming sound came from the deck below the bridge and she opened the hatch to see one of the engineers looking up at her sheepishly through a haze of purple smoke. "Sorry, ran a phase inverter sequence on a depolarized coupler and it blew up."

"You okay?"

He nodded. "I'll have it repaired in a minute and the navigation will be back up. We really shoulda done this in dry-dock."

She nodded. "But we needed to come to Earth and we couldn't fly commercial, as it were."

She closed the hatch and went back to watching the movie, wondering if there was a smutty holodeck serial with Cary Grant as a love interest.

~•~

Harry and Vor were in the middle of their battleth battle, Harry allowing himself to be pushed backwards every fourth of fifth strike until he was at the point he wanted to be. A stanchion of the room was to his left. Harry caught the strike and spun Vor's momentum. His blade forced Vor's to slide downwards and catch a metal spike off the stanchion. Another twist of Harry's battleth ripped Vor's from his hand and his adoptive brothers cheered at his defeat of Vor as Harry's final blow sent the Klingon backwards, blood flying from a torn open chin and a broken tooth.

"Well done!" Vor said, hitting Harry's back so hard the wizard felt his shoulder pop but his hitting the stanchion popped it back into place.

Harry touched his shoulder and numbed it. He could pop a restorative potion later. He made a mental note to have a personal healer aboard his ship from now on. "Thanks. It was fun. I prefer a longsword for hand-to-hand though."

"Dinner is ready," said a house retainer.

Seated at the table, Harry had the seat directly across from Teknain, Dessel'b's second wife, with T'ryl to his right. She said, "To cater to our non-Klingon guests, i've varied our menu some."

The first course came out, a fresh green salad for the vegetarians in the group with the klingon version of Bruschetta—only with cooked meats—for the rest.

"What do you think of the heart of targ Jinjoq'etta?" she asked Harry.

"Very good. I suggest trying it with a smoked gouda sometime," he said thoughtfully. "Or a deeply aged pepperjack cheese might be better."

"I have never heard of pepperjack," she said.

"I'll have my people send you some," Harry told her. "They use incredibly spicy peppers that they dice up then pack in with the cheese and it sits in a cave for a year. It's divinely spicy while the cheese is epically creamy with a nutty flavor."

The meal continued, the various dishes prepared cooked instead of raw as Klingons preferred.

After the meal, Harry was cornered by his new mother. "I was unhappy to learn he had elected to adopt a human at first. But you've shown yourself to be an interesting human. And you fight very well for one."

"Thank you."

"I do insist you call me Mother, though."

He chuckled. "I was thinking about that. My parents wouldn't be angry at me calling someone else Father or Mother."

She laughed and was called away. This time it was Dessel'b's turn.

"I noticed your weapon," he said as he approached.

Harry looked down at the Colt Single Action Army derived disruptor in his holster. He drew it and presented it to Dessel'b. "Based on an old Earth weapon I always admired but holds a phase disruption engine and emitter with a bladed barrel and spikes on the butt for hand-to-hand."

"Excellent weight. A mechanical trigger?"

"Two pound pull but will fire full automatic if the trigger is held if the hammer is pulled back before firing."

"Hammer?"

Harry pointed to the part of the gun and he nodded. "Ahh."

He gave it back to Harry and slapped his shoulder. "Come, drink!"

~•~

Harry took off his armour slowly as T'ryl watched, undressing herself.

She finished quicker and was in the bed, underneath the faux fur—chosen for T'ryl's ethical consideration—bedding Darby had sourced for the room after seeing the Klingon aesthetic.

Harry unsteadily moved to the bed—his anti-intoxicant charm had almost succeeded against Klingon liquor—and slid into bed. "Went well," he muttered then bunched his pillow and fell asleep.

Her mouth quirked for a moment then she kissed his forehead. "Sleep well," she said softly, wrapping his arm around her.

~•~

Darby held up a large mug and smiled at Harry's grateful sound after his first sip of his sweetened peppermint tea. "Remind me to write a note of appreciation for the growers of this tea."

Darby nodded rapidly then dashed off to finish completing breakfast in the galley.

He left the captain's quarters and found the crew and T'ryl in the canteen, breakfast being set out by Darby.

T'ryl gestured for him to sit and she brought him a plate of fruit and a bacon sarny alongside a large mug of ginger plomeek soup, a variant that was very popular—along with a variant prepared with basil and sun-dried tomatoes—with the Vulcans on Potter's Rock.

"Thank you," he said and she touched her fingers to his, raising an eyebrow at his emotional state.

He realized what she was doing and took a steadying breath as he did his own version of emotional control, wrapping them behind occlumenical barriers.

"You rarely drink so much."

"I had to keep up with our hosts," Harry replied. "Besides, I had some miracle berries before drinking and klingon whiskey is very good that way." A scorpion like creature's venom and blood was mixed together and once it congealed, it was added to a bottle before the whiskey was added.

"Miracle berries?"

"I forgot their actual name but they have a sugar substitute called miraculin that makes sour foods taste sweet. It was part of diet foods when I was young, I think," he said.

He ate his breakfast as he studied his PADD. "Landor, let's head home at 1300 local."

She nodded. It was 0920. "Should be more than enough time to finish the bridge module changes."

Harry wasn't a fan of command consoles. The bird of prey was being refitted with a fly-by-wire system and Augmented Reality displays for the pilot and gunner—which were getting an in-line design instead of the design they had, freeing up twenty percent of the bride space—and augmented displays that were integrated into the armour of the Army of the Hallows. Harry didn't want an intruder to be able to control any of his ships without the ability to jury-rig tricorders or the like to control his ships. If the test went well on this ship, the rest of his fleet would soon be refitted with the augmented reality control systems to better protect them from attackers. And his pilots and captains of his freighters had all enjoyed the demo versions of the armour they had gotten to test drive.

"Did you see the new armour they made for you?" Landor said as she stopped by their table.

"New armour?"

"Yeah, they redesigned the helmet. it's got a really nice integrated crown," she told him.

Harry's eyes narrowed as she began whistling while she walked out of the canteen.

"Perhaps you should go back to sleep?" T'ryl suggested.

"I have an appointment in San Francisco." He stroked her hand, slightly stimulating the neuropressure points for the bladder.

Her eyes narrowed momentarily. "Why would you do that?"

He smiled. "For the same reason I do just about everything else. I can and it amused me to do so."

Harry stood and left to apparate back to Earth as T'ryl stood and headed to their quarters to use the fresher. It had been the first thing to be refitted, Harry had told her. Klingon bathrooms were decidedly unhygienic by magical standards.

As she ran her hands under the water, washing them with soap, she remembered him mentioning pranking and realized that what he had just done was indicative of the phenomenon. _Perhaps I should reciprocate_, she thought.

~•~

Harry woke to find himself on the ceiling, a comforter glued to secure him in place, a bottle of solvent and a note in T'ryl's handwriting on the bed below him. _Good luck getting down_. Harry smiled and apparated, re-orienting as he did so so he hit the ground in a three point landing.

He dressed quickly then headed to the canteen.

When he stepped into it to gloat, he realized he felt a draft. he looked down and saw his clothing was dissolving into dust and the crew—at least the humans—were looking at him in shock. The Vulcan crew just looked towards him then away.

"Well played," he told T'ryl then apparated away.

~•~

T'ryl watched him disappear and felt very satisfied.

"Thank you, Darby."

The house-elf just bobbed her head happily. She had orders from Harry to obey T'ryl as she would him.

"What did you do?" a wizard asked.

"I covered him with a substance that eats away at any clothing that has the binary substance added to it. The binding him to the ceiling was just a distraction to make him think I was done reciprocating."

~•~

Harry's wand slipped into his hand and he checked his body. Garl's Binary Paste. "Well played," he muttered again.

He went to shower and called Darby.

"Clean all the powder off my clothes," he told her. "I presume you helped her?"

"Ummm, yes, master?" she said nervously.

"You did the right thing," he told her. "But no more helping her prank me, alright?"

"Yes master!" she rushed off to clean his clothes.

* * *

Harry blinked as he appeared in the moon Starfleet had ceded to them. Goblins—at leas the one clan that didn't consider itself on war footing with Harry personally—had done the excavation work, turning the interior into a honeycomb of warrens with only a two hundred mile thick magically fortified stone protecting the warrens from the magma below save a few areas where it was thinner on purpose, creating hot springs for relaxation of the staff working there. The rest of the dirt and stone was on the surface, creating goblin-built mountains. The moon was becoming a terraformed planetoid expressly for pleasure, hiding a massive ship-foundry below it. The plan was to build a new Risa for those who preferred less beaches and more skiing, hiking, and camping.

"Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"The goblin clan, their chief. I really need to thank him somehow." The foundry was exactly as they needed.

"We could name a ship after him or his wife."

"He has three mates. But that could work."

"I have some good news, too. The Universal Assembler, we optimized the system and it's now twice as efficient. We'll be able to finish a ship every month once we finish having the UAs build more UAs. But we need a lot of materiel."

Harry nodded. Each set of UAs could build another set of UAs in two months. And it took eleven UAs working in sequence—one in each corner of a workbay, one in the ceiling, one mounted on the deck, and the eleventh was a mobile unit running on tracks on the wall—to assemble ships but because of magical requirements, the UA had to be built from raw materials—incredibly expensive raw materials—even though it could then use magic and energy to synthesize metals beyond the current abilities of replicator technology. "Have both sets of UAs set to building new UAs. Let's have seven working bays then they can start assembling a UA assembly for Peverell One."

As Harry walked away, he decided the planet should be named for the first Wielder of his wand, Antioch.

Sadly, he had learned he couldn't just renamed Potter's Rock but there was a vote in a month's time to rename it to Ignotus while the third planet where the muggle colonies were were voting on renaming to Cadmus. Though they were mostly muggle they were also in on the secret since they were family members.

Harry tapped his comm badge. "Allie, tell Campbell we need to acquire enough materiel for seven sets of UA-1." Enough material to build seven more bays worth of Universal Assemblers.

"I'm a distributed intelligence capable of running a dozen ships and I'm stucking being a messenger," she said. "Your message, _so_ convoluted a monkey could have couriered it, has been sent."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps a little too snarky?"

"Maybe but I like it," Harry said. "I'll probably tune her down some when she's the communications backbone of the fleet." The goal was a fleet of golems, magical gynoids, each one a node of Allie as she maintained the fleet's communication network, one per ship. Other golems on the ship would be non-ambulatory and only would be networked with each other.

"So what's her uniform gonna look like?" Hank asked, smirking.

"She'll have the same armor as the rest of us," Harry said. "You deviant. No body on the inside though. Maybe slightly more streamlined and feminine looking but if so, it's just to stand out, not to be titillating."

He burst out laughing. "I just find the idea of human-synthetic sexuality hilarious. I mean, when I learned Commander Data was in a relationship with a human and is marrying her soon? It's just crazy to think about."

"I'd invite you to the wedding as my plus one but you bursting out laughing would look poorly on me," Harry said drily which made Hank laugh even more.

It sounded like he was being anti-nonhuman but he was as much of an adherent of IDIC as Starfleet wanted to project an image of. He just had issues with the idea of people pairing off with people that it was physically impossible to procreate with. He had argued against holodeck programs with sexual programs but Harry had overridden him. It was up to people to be their own gatekeepers, not Harry, he had told him.

"You know, that actually reminds me," Hank said. "I was talking to a doctor about Data. He said that he actually has components that have DNA. His skin is a synthetic biopolymer that is derived from human skin. He could probably procreate if that skin's DNA could be sequenced and then fed into sperm harvested from someone else and scraped clean of DNA."

Harry blinked. It had been a long time since he studied medical issues like that. Since the Eugenics wars, actually.

"Ehh, whatever," he said, finally. "How goes the Boomerang?" Not the actual name of the shape, nor was it shaped like one since it first started as a delta wing design then had a curved shape like a boomerang mated to the front.

"Other side of the planet," Hank said.

They took a tram—the floo system wasn't built yet, the tracks had been built by the goblins to move dirt and had been repurposed as personnel transport lines—to the other side of the moon.

The bay had the ship in it, the alloy a blood red with refracted angles, very reminiscent of the F117 Nighthawk's fuselage with a B-1 Spirit's wings with its blended wing design for atmospheric flight. Its winglets were much more bulbous as they contained the magical equivalent of a nacelle and the front was rounded with a feathered texture to the metal that was getting gold fill when the paint job was complete.

"Have you decided on a name?" Hank asked.

Harry shook his head. "I was thinking a bird's name though. Something strong."

"Want to take a tour? its hull is still being assembled—" there were great gaps in the hull that showed the inner hull and the various runic arrays used to strengthen the design that were held in couplings been support ribs "—but the interior is complete."

Harry nodded and they negotiated their way through security checkpoints until they were in the room, moving on the yellow line that designated where the arms of the Universal Assemblers wouldn't be able to hit them.

The inner bulkheads were a continuous piece of marble, assembled by the UA so that each hatch had the red foliation arranged so it had the number of the rooms or the name.

The hallways followed the curve of the wing in an exaggerated S bisected twice that made it look like a U and S melded together then squashed in a boomerang shape.

There were over two thousand luxury quarters of various levels, a massive captain's quarters, Warp 8 capable engines, two luxury dining rooms, a private captain's dining room, three ballrooms, six synthdecks, a quarter of casinos, two movie theatres, six entertainment theatres, and an opera theatre. The shields were planetary class and the ship carried over a hundred thousand photon torpedos with 32 integrated phaser banks that could fire independently, in sequence, or from one array. The ship had the same internal space as a galaxy class ship.

They took the tour leisurely, trying not to bother the goblins, magitekineers, and house-elves at work.

* * *

A sweat soaked T'ryl knelt on a replica of sehlat fur, a healer kneeling behind her as she held her head againt Harry's, taking strength from their connection as the contractions had her nearly bite through the mouthpiece she had in place.

A groan then a muffled scream and she barely resisted the emotional outburst of blaming Harry for the pain she was in.

"Hour seven," Harry muttered then his eyes widened and he said even more softly, "sorry." He knew he shouldn't be complaining when she was the one with children tearing her open as they exited.

With the waves of pain at an end she regained emotional control but felt a trill of amusement before she did so.

And then it was all over and their two children were born.

Medical tricorders informed them of what they could see visually. The girl was pink with the delicately pointed ears of a vulcan and the boy had the green hue of a newborn vulcan but the ears of a human. She was biologically human with the organ layout of a vulcan while he was biologically vulcan with the organ layout of a human.

"Will there be biological issues?" T'ryl asked as she was handed both of the children.

"Scans show them to be sound even with their biological issues," Liana said. "Congratulations are in order. I am continuing scans and will document them daily for the next year then transition to weekly until they are two then monthly until they are three." The same precautions had been taken for Spock.

~•~

HEIRS BORN, THEY'RE HYBRID VULCAN MAGES was the headline. Harry scowled. Not at the headline or the news. That news reporters STILL used the comma as an and in headlines. "So infuriating."

"What?" T'ryl asked as she nursed the twins.

He explained and she laughed. Vulcan women always released their emotional control with their newborns, at least in private. "I believe you would call anyone else to say something like that a news snob."

"I'm fine with being considered a snob," Harry said. "I just want clear language in my headlines. Or an Ampersand."

He reached out and touched the foreheads of their children. "I'm kind of sad they both have black hair. You're so lucky you look human Rochelle," he teased T'ryl. "And you're the cutest little vulcan baby ever, Soran," he said then kissed both children's temples.

"I am glad you found a human name that can be said as such a noble Vulcan name like my grandmother's. My father was honored you elected to use his name as a basis and to continue the tradition." Of a two syllable name beginning with S for her ancestors included Surak.

"R'chel does sound pretty," he said.

He hesitated then asked a question that had been on his mind for a few days. "What does Vulcan breast milk taste like?"

"I do not know. My mother may. Or you could sample it for yourself at some point," she told him then raised an eyebrow at his lustful thought. Their legs were touching. "That may resume in three months time, Liana informed me."

"I can wait," he affirmed. When he saw Soran was slowing, he took the boy who opened his eyes and looked at his father with the green eyes of Evans. He made a gulping motion and Harry shifted him to his shoulder so he could burp him. When that was done, he handed him back and he went back to suckling.

"Though I knew you had much experience at this, I did not expect you to be so good," she admitted and he smiled.

"I loved babies. Well, the first ones were annoying. But the third and latter ones were much better once I knew what I was doing and we had a house-elf who had potions ready for us as soon as the babies began crying." For Harry's headache, not the children.

~•~

The first photos of the babies were taken by an Imperial Auror who was ordered to do so by Harry in hopes that it would stop reporters from trying to get candid shots. She was 'dismissed' from her position and sent back to the aurors in 'disgrace.' Her next assignment had her being sent to the Imperial Academy to become an instructor in hopes of 'removing' the stain on her record. Along with a hefty raise.

"It's an excellent image of them," T'ryl said as the two ate dinner in the sitting room next to the nursery. The twins were both asleep.

An Imperial Auror entered the room, holding a mirror. "Your parents."

He held it so that T'ryl and Harry could be seen by her mother in the mirror.

"Sarek has died. We are to return to Vulcan for the ceremony. Will you and the children attend as well?"

Harry nodded. "Of course. And my new ship is ready. We'll take her."

~•~

Harry's new floating casino—unnamed but using Maltese Falcon since that had been the project name, was slowly ramping up warp speed, raising it up .1 every hour on their trip to New Vulcan.

At the moment that they transitioned to warp 3.3—which caused an issue with the harmonic stabilizers and a jolt of 'turbulence' ran through the ship, Rochelle awoke and began crying mightily.

Harry snorted awake and realized he had fallen asleep in the rocking chair. He stood and stretched then picked her up and checked her diaper. She was clean so he picked her up and began singing a soft lullaby, hoping she fell asleep before she woke Soran.

Harry lucked out, mostly because he remembered he knew magic and cast a spell that would attenuate the sound reaching her brother.

"Why is it that a crying baby makes mages forget they know magic?" Harry muttered to her in between songs.

Finally she was soothed and asleep and he put her back down then walked to the bedroom and found T'ryl making notes. "Did I heard Rochelle crying?"

He nodded. "She's back to sleep."

"The ship is impressive," she said. She had taken a tour of the ship an hour before Harry had sat down with the children in the nursery. "But why do you plan to have a casino as your personal ship?"

Harry shrugged. "I figured it would be amusing. Besides, we already have some of the most beautiful people applying to be dealers and the like. This is hopefully going to help me get in the black."

She nodded. "Gambling does seem to be a rather common vice."

"Fleet Admiral Potter," said Allie's hologram as she appeared next to them. "We are now exactly one day from Vulcan if we continue our speed increases as planned."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

"I have finished my birthday gift to you." She handed him a scroll of parchment and he unrolled it.

His eyes went wide as he read it and his cheeks turned pink. "T'ryl, I didn't think you'd be the type to write… well, erotica. Wow!" he whispered as he got to the first part of actual sex.

"This is what I plan to do to you upon our being able to copulate again."

"Wow," he read the next section on the foreplay. "Four hours? Really?" She nodded. "But you always say that Vulcans don't give gifts on birthdays." He ignored her and got her gifts anyway. Always Lingerie—for himself, admittedly; jewelry—always to the Vulcan aesthetic and each piece added to the set that matched the neclace he had started with; and something practical, usually a rare book. Or a piece of artwork that followed Vulcan aesthetics.

"As you remind me on each of my birthdays, we are not on Vulcan."

He smiled and kissed her. "Let's go to be—"

A crying child canceled that idea. They both went to see which child needed soothed.

~•~

Harry awoke to find himself being clutched by T'ryl. A somewhat uncommon event. A held hand or intertwined legs happened often but her grasping him so tightly was new. He opened his eyes and used his finger tips on her back to slowly tickle her to wakefulness.

"I am no longer sleeping," she told him, saying it into his neck, her lips buzzing him slightly as she did so.

He stopped tickling and half-whispered, "Why're you holding me so tightly?"

"I did not meditate last night. I had an uncomfortable dream and seemed to have instinctively reached for you."

"I wouldn't mind if you did that more."

She kissed his cheek. "I may do so but I will attempt to meditate tonight before bed."

She didn't stop him as he began kissing her, more hungrily than he should have when they could go no further when cries filled the air. Then a matching set of cries joined in.

"A rather unpleasant symphony," Harry muttered as he slid out of bed and reached for his dressing robe.

"I read your magical care books. Mages seem rather eager to use magic when it comes to children."

"Monkey see, monkey do," Harry told her. That gave her pause then she nodded in understanding as she held Rochelle, soothing her since she seemed unwilling to eat and bounced and twisted slowly, trying to soothe her. "Ah, I believe you mean that if a child sees magic taking place, it will attempt to do the same?"

Harry nodded. "As a baby, I summoned my mother's cat or books or food to me whenever i wanted it because I saw magic happening, I knew that I could do the same." The story had been told to him by Sirius and Remus too many times. Harry was fairly sure the faint white scars on his arm were remnants of his mother's cat's freakouts at being summoned.

Harry sat down now that Soran and Rochelle seemed soothed and summoned a book to him then let it float in front of him as he read them the tale Carol and the Bad, bad Bunnies.

"This story appears to be a simile of Borg assimilation," T'ryl said as she began nursing a once again fussy Rochelle.

"It is. A girl who was on the enterprise wrote it. She won an award for it. Beverly sent me a copy for the kids along with the blankets." The ones in the twins' beds.

When the story was over, Soran was back asleep and Harry put him back down in bed.

Rochelle got burped then placed back in her crib.

"I think I need a borg," Harry said.

"Why would you want a borg?"

"To study, of course," Harry said. "Your people spied on the Andorians when you were at war. You had to know your enemy. I need to know the Borg. Our way of fighting them might be different, maybe more effective than how the muggles fight them. So far we've yet to come across actual magic in other societies and species." He sighed. "I really hope the twins aren't squibs."

Their nanny came in, Harry's Deltan/Veela/human personal assistant. "Morning guys," she said softly.

T'ryl nodded and went back to their bedroom while Harry wrapped himself in occlumenical shields to protect himself from her pheromones. "Anything I need to know?" she asked.

"Rochelle ate, Soran ate about two hours ago. There's self warming bottles in the chiller. I'm heading to the bridge, T'ryl's probably going to nap a bit more. Have fun Elisabetta."

Harry stopped to kiss T'ryl then left their quarters.

His flight team on the bridge turned to look at him and he felt a small thrill of disquiet at the three faceless masks looking his way.

He conjured a wax crayon and told them not to move then draw fairly credible faces on them—a century of practice led to more than adequate skills as an artist. "Better. But we need to have at least some eyes added to the masks."

One crewman chuckled while Landor took her mask off. She was 'captain' of the ship for the trip. "Why not have the masks the same as the ones on the actual armor?" They had eye slits fitted with transfigured gems in the main house color.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't design them but I'll talk to the crew that did."

~•~

Harry was humming Iron Man as he fixed Rochelle's diaper then he picked her up and she made a burbling noise then a giggle as he put her in the pram. Elisabetta placed Soran next to her then turned at the sound of T'ryl entering the room. "The ship has arrived and made a low orbit of Vulcan. We are able to take the shuttle down now."

Harry pushed the pram out of the room as Elisabetta said, "Are you sure you won't need me down there?"

"We will be fine," T'ryl assured her as she accepted the large bag of supplies. "Thank you."

The ship also had a captain's yacht design. Much like the galaxy class, the ship was mounted flush to the belly but instead of having nacelles as landing struts, the ship had four legs and was designed to look like a gryffin when it was unmounted and unfolded from its dormant state. Harry had been angry then pleased at seeing it and had refrained from chewing out Hank and the drafting team for the addition, especially after seeing it flying and its tail whipping and legs in movement as if it were on the ground.

"It'll run on the ground too," Hank had said happily. "Three hundred kilometers an hour at its pacing speed and full speed is over a thousand kilometers an hour running. It's still a little bumpy though."

The yacht glided down in a spiral that widened then began to narrow back down until the gryffin landed on the dock assigned to them and pranced a few times before drawing its wings to its body and lowering its belly to the ground.

Its mouth opened wide and Harry, T'ryl, the twins, and Landor exited the mouth.

"You really need to give Hank and his teams bonuses," Landor said, looking at the 'teeth' of the mouth, touching one. "How come it has teeth _and_ a beak?"

"They do in nature too," Harry told her. "it's kinda creepy up close to see a beak then it opens and there's a six inch long serrated canine."

"Your ship is an impressive if illogical design," said the Vulcan official meeting them.

"Prototype design," Harry said as he handed over their manifest, identification packets, and Landor's visitation visa. "For use as tour vessels." It could hold forty people.

"Welcome back," the Vulcan said to them all then looked to the twins, "And welcome to Vulcan."

She looked to T'ryl who nodded then touched the children on their foreheads. "Strong," she said.

"Lieutenant Landor, you will not be attending the funeral?"

"I have not met him. I planned to take care of some shopping. I like vulcan aesthetics for my off-duty wear."

"Most shops are closed for the funeral but I know that many shops in the area known as Little Terra will be open. Though run by aliens, their robes are of good quality and many follow the Vulcan aesthetic," she was informed and Landor nodded.

"Thank you."

They went to the waiting vehicle and were soon on their way to her parents' home—they had returned earlier.

Her mother greeted them and immediately took her grandson when he opened his eyes and made a sound.

"Grandmothers," Harry said softly, smiling.

T'ana turned to him and nodded. "Yes, my mother was much the same with my children."

Harry gratefully took the juice T'ryl had brought him. "Thank you," he said as she let her fingers linger on his.

"Your relationship continues?" T'ana asked.

They both nodded.

"Fascinating. I have lost a bet with your father."

"You bet that we'd end our relationship?" T'ryl asked.

"… Yes."

"I find myself rather disappointed," T'ryl said.

Harry shrugged. "T'ryl, parents are NEVER able to be logical about their children."

"Harry is correct. No parent can stop their emotional responses to their children. That is my ear, yes, please refrain from attempting to chew on it," she requested of Soran.

Harry snickered. "When do we leave for the ceremony?"

"Three hours."

"Enough time for a nap, then."

T'ryl nodded.

"Very good, I shall watch Rochelle and Soran."

In T'ryl's old bedroom, Harry kicked off his boots and fell back on the bed, casting a timed sleep induction charm. He'd be awakened in exactly two hours.

~•~

Rosalyn Landor took a long drink from her replicator bottle—designed to always have a liter of the liquid it had been filled with ready to go—and was surprised to find so few humans in 'Little Terra.' She wondered about the name under she came to a small plaque. Little Terra was not the actual name of the district but Lil'T'ra, the Vulcan term for Outside Traders' Quarters, the historical name for where aliens were quartered before the Federation was born. It had become a kind of haven for aliens looking for luxuries from home as it became a shopping district run by aliens who migrated there.

She found a shop run by a Denobulan with fantastic tailoring skills and showed him the robe cuts she liked.

~•~

The rim of the Forge held every relation to Sarek that could attend and those effected by his work. There were Vulcans and aliens, literally, as far as Harry's mage-enhanced sight—he had finally lost the glasses when he had learned that century old potions and spells could heal his eye issues and enhance his sight with a conscious thought—could see. Over 1.82 million sentients from every corner of the Alpha Quadrant were in attendance, including Captain Picard who held one of the places of honor for his service to the family in an hour of need.

Harry and T'ryl and her family, being relatively close relatives of a recent branch family, were within visual sight but only Harry could tell who was who due to magic.

All in attendance took hands and a telepathic link was created, allowing everyone in attendance to hear as Perrin, Sarek's widow spoke.

"We are honored by your attendance as Sarek's ashes return to the world upon which he helped build," she finally ended the eulogy.

The image of her releasing the ashes, a wind stirring and drawing them deep into the forge, was projected to all those who attended and Harry closed his eyes, wrapping his emotions away for the mental image drew up mage funeral services where the honored dead was placed upon a bier and his ashes became a part of the world as flames consumed his corpse.

The moment of silence was interrupted locally by Soran's awakening and cries. No one said anything except those closest shifted so Harry could pick up the infant while still maintaining contact and T'ryl did the same with Rochelle.

Harry whispered, "Shush, little one. We honor your distant cousin."

He felt a trill of approval from the Vulcan next to him, for Harry's accent and his words.

When they broke apart, the Vulcan next to Harry asked, "He is the grandchild of Sonar?"

Harry nodded. The man bowed. "Hello grandnephew. I had heard you were born."

"Uncle Silar," T'ryl said. "This is Harry and our children Rochelle and Soran."

He touched the childrens' foreheads who watched him then Harry and T'ryl put them back in the pram.

"Will you be having their names engraved and their likenesses taken at the temple of Amonak?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A religious rite?"

"Once it was so. We continue the tradition now, to honor the ancestors."

"I see no reason not to," Harry said. "As long as it isn't an actual induction into a religion."

"You have one they will follow?"

"No. My people are agnostic, mostly, though some still follow the ancient rites of Hekate. We were persecuted by theists for centuries. We elevate some people to the equivalent of godhoods but evoking their name in moments much as a human would in saying 'God damnit' but not to actually believe they're gods."

He nodded. "I have read a medical survey on the human need for what is called cursing. It seems to be cathartic from the usages."

"Very," Harry replied. "Also, sexually. Having a woman you care for begging you to fuck her is VERY cathartic."

He nodded again. "Yes, I have seen that in effect in humans. The former, not the sexual."

"You should," Harry told him, smiling.

"He is attempting to tease you, uncle."

"I understood his attempt, niece. It has been agreeable to meet you Harry, live long and prosper."

"He liked you," T'ryl said, a faint touch of surprise almost evident in her voice. "He's usually very reserved."

Harry was introduced to other relatives and those family members all touched the twins on their foreheads.

Finally, they were alone. "Why does everyone touch their foreheads?"

"A slight psychic touch, affirming their relation to each other in case someday they are in need of a healing mind-meld that only a family member can induce. The more genetically related that touch, the greater the chance of help should it come to pass. Some illnesses will only allow those who have touched their minds before to be of help.

"Those who aren't related do so as it is custom and just in case they are unknowingly closely related."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense. I worried they were trying to lend emotional mastery to a child."

She raised an eyebrow then reached forward and touched her fingertips to his.

"I would not have allowed them to do so," she reminded him. "I know the necessity of emotions for them."

"What about my necessity of emotions for you?" he whispered back.

She used her free hand to wipe the sweat from his brow then kissed him. "Forty days."

"Are you keeping track for me or yourself?"

"Both of us."

~•~

Harry, T'ryl, the twins, and her parents entered the Gryffin.

"The tongue extending out as a loading ramp is a curious aesthetic," T'ana said.

"Not my idea," Harry said. "But yeah, very weird. I want to be angry at the shipwrights because it's such an obviously 'magical' design but at the same time I've seen ornithopters on some worlds so a beating wing design isn't that outlandish."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N0: Sorry it's late, didn't realize it was the seventh until I was poking out today's pills for gran.

A/N: recently came across a site somewhat like kickstarter but geared explicitly towards writing where one would—I assume—post the synopsis of their story, some sample writing, and how much they need to earn before writing the story and then people would purchase an early copy for x. Once the goal is reached, the author starts writing and then they get ebooks. I'm musing on trying that with my story Shattered, a cyberpunk novella I want to do a major rewrite on. If I do do so, I'll post the Novella for all to read for free with a link to the site. Right now it's a first person story that I want to rewrite as a third person story with a more conventional story arc. It would be nice to be able to afford a new laptop and ipad, my primary tools as I write.

A/N2: I submitted a Pub Quiz series idea to Channel 4(UK) and they said since I'm not a professional I should submit it to a production studio and see if they're interested. I'm going to do some extra work on the notes I have for it and then submit it to HotSauce TV, the production studio that does the Big Fat Quiz of the Year. Perhaps if I'm lucky Jonathan Ross and/or the production company will love it, arrange for me to get a Visa, and I'll be producing my show idea within a year as well as developing and producing six or seven other shows that I think will be popular..

A/N3: My grandmother's dementia is getting worse. She keeps imagining some dude working on his vehicle outside our home and thinks she has some sort of potential relationship with him. And since she's no longer going to church with Aurora—who had been doing a fair bit of traveling for work and whose sister passed away recently—I've literally been home 24/7 for the past three months except on her appointments. I'm incredibly depressed.

A/N4(Darkness Ascendant specific): I finally remembered why I have such a short prologue. I had planned to include the Dramatis Personae as part of it. I'll be editing and adding that sometime this month I hope.

A/N5(Trek to the Stars specific): the story is actually written out a few more chapters than where we're at for the moment so those who've asked interesting questions that I plan to address, those will be answered in story eventually, such as Harry and his plans for the Orions(it's not just a throwaway idea(though him dealing with the cardassians himself isn't going to happen. Cardassians are a galactic power, Orions are a criminal organization he can gut and take their profits and proceeds for himself. The galactic powers would have issues with some mostly unknown human stomping on the cardassians and taking over their powerbase and then more than S31 would be poking around his business.(plus they're necessary for the big bad to use))). I had written a few thousand words on his plans but, while playing Star Trek Online, I figured out something new and rejiggered the plan so that will be pushed a few more chapters for the rewrite.

A/N6: Will attempt to edit the old chapters once more this month but, like I said, depression saps my will to do anything(and please don't try to tell me how to get over my depression, it's a major asshole move to think that you are qualified to help me in that way(unless you're an actual doctor but even then, shut up, read the story, then review it, not me).

A/N7(Trek to the Stars specific): While playing STO, I realized I can hook in at least one sequel, though more likely two or three so once the Beta/Alpha Quadrant are dealt with in prequel/story 1, story 2 will be delta quadrant(voth), and story 3 will be gamma quadrant(new dominion). And if my plotline looks good, Story 4 will deal with the Mirror Universe. A potential fifth story will be another crossover with the Stargate Universe though rather different(since stargate is a known fictional entity in this universe, it won't be stargates, it'll just be an enemy and some background info). (Sequels are not a given, it depends on how things are with gran and how finances are.)

* * *

Harry studied his latest galactic brief. Bajor was now a 'free' world but had requested membership in the Federation of planets due to the significant damage by the Cardassians as they left.

Picard was still in command of the Enterprise and he and Beverly had adopted a young girl who had been orphaned by the loss of a nurse on an away mission. He made an aural note to whichever assistant was within earshot to remind him to send a nice present or two.

Riker—Commandant Tom Riker—had married a witch named Harlotia the day before the twins' first birthday. And the birthday cycles annoyed Harry. His birthday was different every year. Ignotus—the vote had been near unanimous—had a four hundred day year, Vulcan had a 332 day year, and Earth had a 365.25 day year. Which meant both of their birthdays were different on Ignotus while on Earth and Vulcan the twins would have to adjust celebrations and their planet of birth would have their birthdays happen more than a year apart on both.

Harry shook that off and checked the next line. Riker and Harlotia were returning from their month on Risa within the week.

The first Imperial Cadets had graduated and the first Officer Candidates were halfway through training.

A fleet of 100 fighters, 7 Mage class, 7 Sapir class, and one Constellation class—based on the Galaxy class but shaped like an elongated 777 meter tetradecagon with the spines raised and the flat sections pressed inwards, creating valleys between the weapon emplacements.

He put down the data. The carrier—now named the Godric class—was being built slowly and its parts tractored into space. The Godric was going to be almost three kilometers across, designed to separate in a Corskcrew, pulling the two hemispheres apart to allow the seven Constellation class ships to exit. The interior column was the command center for the flag office, a hospital ship, and a repair and supply depot within the columns. The fighters would be installed in bays hidden behind the mounting points for the Mage class on the exterior of the Godric class. While the Godric class could carry over 800 Mage class fighters on the exterior, the mounting points were set so that there were 389 on the northern hemisphere and 388 on the southern hemisphere.

He set aside his fleet data and opened the file on the Borg his InfilCorps had attained from Starfleet.

"I think we need a Borg," Harry said again. "But we need somewhere safe to experiment."

Phoenix pulled up a map of the galaxy. "This is a black hole in the Kron system and it is too dangerous to navigate in due to the material inbound. We could potentially hang a research laboratory here, using magic to stop from being pulled into the black hole or struck unless containment is breached then they all get sucked in to stop an outbreak."

"You thought about this."

"Since the last time you had your insane idea. But wouldn't it just be expelled from a white hole?"

Harry smiled. "I don't think so." Then it fell away. "From what I understand, it all would be trapped in the event horizon, forever trapped in that moment. I think."

He looked over to where the twins were playing with a Vulcan toy, designed to test their spatial awareness. Though on earth they were just called Duplo Blocks.

He handed over the brief. "You can go, Phoenix."

Harry joined the twins and T'ryl on the floor.

Rochelle stood and toddled towards him. "Baba!"

"I hope you mean papa," Harry teased as he picked her up and covered her face with kisses that made the girl giggle madly.

"They currently exceed the 99th percentile for Human-Vulcan hybrids," T'ryl said. "And are in the 95th percentile for Vulcans."

Harry set Rochelle in his lap and asked, "How about we take the little monsters on a picnic to the Highlands?"

"A picnic would be an acceptable outing," T'ryl said.

Before either could say anything else, Darby popped into the room. "Picnic?!" she said excitedly.

Harry nodded and she cheered then disappeared.

"And we are now going to have enough food to feed an army," Harry muttered.

T'ryl looked at the Imperial Aurors just outside the throne room. "Our entourages are an army," she reminded him.

Harry grinned at her and she raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

"I just had an idea. For an outfit for you tonight."

"Very well. I will begin ovulating again within two months. Shall I take precautions?"

Before he could reply, T'pau returned from her patrol of the castle.

The twins toddled towards her and as soon as they closed, she dropped into a crouch and let the two children clamber over her.

"Do you want to get pregnant again so soon?" he finally asked after reminding Rochelle that T'pau's ears were not handholds.

"I would not mind it happening," she said.

"Then we'll let nature take its course," he told her. "If it happens, it happens."

"What do you wish me to wear this evening?"

I designed a sexual slave version of the Imperial uniform," he teased.

Her eyebrow raised. "Do you plan to begin taking slaves?"

"No. Well, you in role play."

She nodded realizing she was being teased then stood and went to herd the twins to their room to prepare them for the picnic While Harry made a call.

~•~

"Bev, I was—oh, hi Captain Picard."

"Hello, Harry," Jean-Luc said. "Beverly is on an away mission for another sixteen hours."

"Actually glad to catch you. I just sent you a crate of wine to your chateau. How's Valeria?"

"In classes. And thank you for the wine. How goes things with your people? How's Riker doing?" The last time the two had spoke, Harry had told him about hiring Riker.

"He's great. My people think he's an excellent instructor though he is a bit lax on the administrative side but we have people to take up that slack. And I heard a rumor he's expecting." While Harry had told him about some things, the bare minimum was that Harry's people were gearing up towards Federation application, not the building of a fleet.

"Will intimated something about being an uncle soon," he said thoughtfully. "I thought he meant someone aboard ship.

"I must get back to the bridge, though, I only came back to the quarters to change after spilling tea."

"No worries, tell Bev hi and I'll just send her my query as a letter. And technically, Will's gonna be a dad since they're identical. Maybe let that slip to Deanna and Brenna."

Harry grinned and closed the channel as Picard chuckled.

~•~

The twins toddled carefully into the throne room, clutching the leads connected to T'pau's collar.

The sehlat bared his teeth at the unfamiliar Imperial Auror who got too close until Elisabetta patted her head. "Shush, he's an Imperial Auror, here to protect them just as much as you are." She smiled at the Auror and he had a stunned look until the small group was away from him and his partner.

The twins let go of the leads and toddled towards their parents as Harry turned away from them at the sound of a house-elf apparating into the room with a huge picnic basket.

Along with two tents, tables, chairs, and entirely too many other things.

"Darby," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We just need food for six—including T'pau, a blanket, a parasol, and the baby bag. Not the dining room."

"Oh. Sorry Master Harry Potter Emperor Sire!"

The items disappeared back to where they were supposed to be then a large parasol appeared in her hands.

~•~

The Gryffin was waiting for them on the bowling green—Harry had converted the croquet lawn since he liked lawn bowling but didn't play croquet—and Harry apparated the twins aboard since they found the immense chrome construct to be frightening. The Gryffin was also being requested by Federation personnel for testing due to its design. The wings allowed for controlled flight if all engines were lost, the legs allowed for ground transport, and the design was aesthetically pleasing. Harry had declined the request.

Inside, Allie's new chassis looked like an attractive woman with gold hair wearing a scarlet metal bustier over black chainmaille tunic and platemail greaves. The helmet was integral and slid up from the neck piece. "Landor's two minutes out."

Harry nodded—he still hadn't gotten himself checked out on the ship design and was unwilling to risk his children—as he picked up Soran. "C'mere, you."

The boy giggled as Harry kissed his cheek.

Landor breezed in and headed for the bridge after a quick stop to tickle the twins.

~•~

Landor set the Gryffin down, and in a moment of whimsy, had the Gryffin spin around three times before settling to the grass.

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Auntie Rosa is a muppet."

"Au'ee!" Soran squealed as Harry bounced him a little bit.

"Muppet?" she asked. "What is a muppet?"

"Look in a mirror," he advised her as Allie said, "A socially inept person."

Harry snickered and left the bridge as Rosa glared him after after removing her helmet.

They trekked out of the ship.

"This spot is perfect," Harry said.

"The ground is uneven and has an averaged eleven degree gradient," T'ryl replied.

"Magic," Harry replied, his holly wand slipping into his hand.

He waved his wand and the ground below them began to flatten and level out as the weeds were pulled out and the grass trimmed down to five centimeters high.

The twins, upon being set down, began toddling to T'pau who had found a particularly fine spot and was rolling over and over, scratching her back until the twins piled onto her stomach.

T'ryl spread out the blanket as Elisabetta took their hats out of the bag and put them on. "And don't take them off aga—Soran!" He giggled as she ran after the hat he had thrown away.

As soon as Soran's hat was back on him, Rochelle's went flying and Harry laughed at her exasperated sigh.

T'ryl placed her own sunhat upon her head and Harry asked, "I thought Vulcans didn't tan?"

"Not in this spectrum," she said. "But Fleur said that this hat and this dress are appropriate for a picnic."

"The petticoats are very alluring," he told her then stole a kiss. "You do know she's basically dressed you to look like Alice, from Alice In Wonderland, right?"

"The holonovel I saw had her in blue."

"The book she wore yellow." He ran his hand up her legs, letting it linger on her thigh, under the petticoats, feeling the fasteners. "Though in neither the book nor the movies did she wear microfishnet stockings. Sadly."

"I also neglected to wear undergarments," she said softly.

Elisabetta finally got the twins herded back to where their parents sat and the two happily ate their little bits of fruits and veggies and drank from their sippy cups with little help as they sat in their parents' laps.

"This pie is excellent," T'ryl said as she held her dessert so Soran couldn't steal her pie after eating his own slice.

"Darby will be happy to know," he said. "The kumquat harvest was fairly massive this year. She went a little crazy with the harvest. Everyone, literally everyone, got a pint of Imperial made preserves and there's still nine gallons of various kumquat based foodstuffs in the pantry. That's how much of the harvest we got."

With their meal done, Harry and T'ryl played with the twins.

Harry used magic to create a retelling of the story of the Three Brothers to let the twins watch as he and T'ryl had a glass of wine.

When the picnic was over, Harry sent the twins back with Elisabetta and two Imperial Aurors who had come along.

"We're not going back?" T'ryl asked.

Harry smiled at her and shook his head.

Once the ship was gone, he pulled her to him and slid his hands down to her hips, slipping one hand down to cup her backside.

"I figured if you dressed for it, we should take advantage," he whispered then kissed her.

T'ryl smiled slightly since they were alone.

"I believe it _would_ be logical to make love here," she replied.

"Logical or not," he whispered into her ear then stroked it softly, making her shudder. Vulcans had two neuropressure points in the ears, right next to each other, one that cause pain, the other caused pleasure and excitement in a Vulcan female. Harry knew exactly which one to use and she was now physically ready.

Harry didn't go for the gold. He dropped kisses on her neck, making her breathe in as he undid the frog closures on the apron.

It slipped to the ground as she began undoing the fasteners on his cassock.

She pulled him to the ground, too impatient to wait for them both to be undressed.

~•~

They lay, resting, her heels still on, her stockings torn by their actions, one around her ankle, the other still connected to her garter belt.

Harry touched the now darkening bruises on her thighs where he had gripped too hard. "You look so sexy right now."

"You are impaired by hormones. And thank you. You look and smell very virile covered in sweat and smelling of me."

"My favorite cologne is your arousal."

"Will you repair my stockings?"

"I would prefer to leave them torn for now. I find it very appealing."

"Very well but these were quite expensive, especially for an item i do not regularly wear."

"Then you should wear them more often," he suggested. "And the LBD you bought."

"The LB—oh, the Herve Leger vintage strap buckle dress? Very well, what places would it be good to wear?"

"I have a holonovel with a nightclub setting that would be a perfect place for you to wear it or the dress I have for you to wear tonight."

"What is the holonovel about?"

"Just a nightclub, to dance, to have a couple drinks, see a band I loved back on Earth. I'm not a fan of interactive holonovels. I prefer to pick up a book for my adventures."

She smiled as his fingers tickled her along her ribs.

"I love your smile," he said softly. "It lights up your face."

"Then I shall smile for you more often."

He put his hand on her thigh and pulled her closer. "I also love when you let yourself scream," he whispered then used his knee to spread her legs and pushed her on her back.

"I." she returned his kiss until he was almost gasping from lack of air. "Do not." Her hands clasped him tightly to her as he pushed in. "Let myself scream." Her legs locked around him to hold him tightly to her as his fingers wrapped in her hair. "You cause the screams, my Ashalik!"

~•~

With the twins laid down to sleep, Harry told Elisabetta that they would return before two AM then returned to their bedroom and found T'ryl just finishing applying her evening makeup, red and gold eyeshadow, the black eyeliner thick and with barbs coming off in an old Vulcan style. She stood and revealed she was wearing red and gold fishnets layered and black stiletto heels with the latex skant version of the Imperial Army uniform, the material so thin it was obvious she wore nothing underneath save her garter belt, the ends of the straps visible and two inches of bare thigh for the skant ended just below her bottom. Harry's breath caught. He muttered, "Set phasers to dazzling."

She pretended not to hear but was inwardly gratified he found her attempt pleasing. "We will be the only ones there."

He nodded, smiling. "I would never have thought a Vulcan would wear something like that."

"It would be illogical to wear this in public. But you find this aesthetically pleasing," she reminded him. "Therefore it is logical to wear this. For you. For my Ashalik."

He took her hand and apparated them into the private synthdeck he had had built into the palace's seventh sublevel.

"This is very large for a holodeck."

"It's a synthdeck," he replied. "And I'm a guy. we believe bigger is always better."

"That is not logical."

He snickered and she realized he was being juvenile.

"How is it that I am in a relationship with someone ten times my age yet acts like a pubescent human?" she muttered, purposely aloud to tease him back.

"You're just very lucky," he replied then spoke in Vulcan. "Night club setting, band four hundred twelve, third song of set."

The room change from an empty basement with holo-emitters and synthesizer nodules along the walls into a room with booths along the walls and a number of tables surrounding a large open area with floors of translucent squares. A dais had instruments on it ready for usage.

"Populate with a moderate level of fans."

"Clarify a moderate level," the computer replied.

"Thirty-four—seventeen couples, all seated for now but moving to dance when the music begins."

twelve couples were at tables and booths, two groups of four people in two booths, and the rest were at the bar. Two waitresses were circulating, delivering drinks.

The band populated the stage, their instruments appearing in their hands as the lights in the club changed from soft white lights to lasers flashing, rotating multi-hue spots, and the dance floor lit up.

The music began.

_"Now is not the time to go_

_"I feel the morning afterglow…."_

Harry ordered two glasses of Vulcan Brandy—an export only product he hard learned though a few shops did sell it for alien visitors who wished to purchase it while living or visiting the planet—and handed a snifter to T'ryl who sat on a stool, letting her hand warm the brandy, her other hand held so no one could see up her dress, wondering why anyone would wear this in public.

She watched them move to the dance floor and began calculating how they moved.

A number of songs passed then Harry grabbed her free hand. "C'mon, it's about to play."

A series of electronic chimes then the guitars began. "Lose my head—"

Their drinks were left behind as they moved to the dance floor and she found herself emulating the movements she had seen before, varying them, occasionally being pulled closed to Harry and exchanging kisses until forty minutes had passed and the band finished their set.

They sat down in the nearest booth and the waitress came by, delivering a Romulan Ale for Harry and a glass of wine for T'ryl.

"This is an interesting cultural experience," she said. "Do your people still do this? I would not be adverse to seeing actual mages in this type of setting in more appropriate clothing."

"My people are more likely to go to a chamber music setting but the muggleborns have a few places like this over in Fedtown." A large village where mostly the InfilCorps and muggleborns lived, InfilCorps for keeping in practice, muggleborns for those who didn't want to completely abandon certain aspects of Federation living. "We can go there in a couple weeks."

He ordered a plate of squash blossoms and she was surprised to see they were actual blossoms, unopened, filled with cheeses and dusted with flaked mint leaves before being fried. She tried one just for the experience then had two more.

"This is a common mage dish?"

"No, it's actually muggle. from Italy, I think. They were Hermione's favorite. We served them at our wedding. I had forgotten about that until I had one."

She knew he preferred to leave the past behind him and just nodded. "They are very good."

The next band came out after the roadies set up their equipment.

_"Wake up in the morning—"_

"Will we dance again?" she asked as the song began. While her feet were hurting, the endorphins had relieved the pain and unnoticeable while dancing and the other aspects—she had found dancing with Harry had been a form of foreplay, leaving her aroused—quite pleasant.

"Let's change the band and I'll teach you how to dance in my favorite way."

She assumed this was innuendo again.

"Computer," he said in Vulcan. "Dance mix one."

The band disappeared and the lights changed, the floor turning back to white as the mood lighting turned a pink-red. The dais now had a large box with a rainbow of lights on it and an arm inside moving black platters.

_"When your legs—"_

"C'mon," Harry said, holding his hand out.

He led her to the floor and placed her hand on his shoulder then his hand on her waist and linked their other hands together. "Just follow my lead, I'll show and tell you what to do."

She nodded, smiling slightly as he stole a kiss.

Harry held her close, smiling as they danced, letting his emotions fully reign.

T'ryl's breath hitched now. She could feel his arousal between them how they danced. "I can feel your arousal," he whispered. "And they can all see your perfect arse." She looked down. Her dress was up to her coxal and a wet spot darkened his trousers.

She blushed. But didn't try to adjust her dress. "They're only holograms," she whispered back.

"Then you won't mind if I take you right here on the floor."

"I—" She hesitated then nodded. "It would be illogical to become embarrassed by holograms." Her cheeks still tinged green, her redwood hued blush overpowered by the autonomic reaction.

She smiled as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

And then she was pressed to the pillar alongside the dance floor, his trousers and pants pooled around his ankles, her legs wrapped around him as they made love on the dance floor.

* * *

T'ryl fixed her nightgown and smiled as the twins sat on Harry's side of the bed, working together to put together a more difficult pleevok from their grandfather.

She saw they were doing rather well, studying the pieces instead of just trying to fit them together as most Vulcan children did at their age.

When Harry returned to the bedroom, Rochelle was placing the final piece and the black and white triangles turned a pastel green. They had finished it in under six minutes.

He set the tray across her lap then sat down with the children and had them clamber into his lap.

He turned on the screen in the room and the children watched the Federated News Service and ate their breakfast treat, toast with dried kumquat bits and marshmallow bits.

When they were done eating, he pointed at one of their stuffed animals. "There's Bobo. Do you want him?"

They nodded.

"Make him come to you," he said. "Reach out, little ones. Make him dance to you."

Harry bit his lip when they got frustrated then summoned the doll to them.

"We knew they would likely be unable to use magic," T'ryl whispered softly.

He nodded. He tried not to let his disappointment show but it still bled out.


	10. Interlude: Of Potential Things To Come

A/N: The next chapter will come either tonight or tomorrow I hope, haven't had time to edit it or write its A/N since this month began. Gran's eye doctor appointments have MASSIVE copays this month and next month and the month after so if you want to help out, remember, my patre on dot com slash PCo is still up and waiting.

Interlude - Of potential things to come:

Teeth gnashed, blood sprayed, claws tore, skin rent, eyes bled.

Inhuman voices were raised in supplication to their Dark Lords as the screams of the damned lent themselves to the unholy chorus.

It stood at the pinnacle of a steppe pyramid, surveying its domain, a rictus like grin a cruel dark mirror image of a smile as it watched two of its soldiers tear another apart to feast on it.

It turned to a great stone basin of blood and watched as the human it most wanted to kill sat on a throne, watching its children play.

The Darkest of the Dark Lords of the Daemon Realm's hand whipped forward, shattering the basin, sending blood to pour down the pyramid. Those of his soldiers the closest leapt forward to feast on the spilled blood.

"Humanity," It spoke. "_He_ will make them believe in magic again. And we will be **freed**!"


	11. Chapter 10

"I hate all the things that can happen between the beginning of a sentence and the end." - Leonard Cohen

A/N1: So I just realized that my Patre on dot com slash PCo has been proccing each month and I didn't realize it. And I thought of something as I was looking at the page that I could discard the names for characters I've already prepared for a later chapter and do this:

FOR THE FIRST TEN PATRONS and a randomly selected extra Patron I want to name a character after you(or let you name the character) in A Trek to the Stars. These characters are some of the first graduating class of Mages and will be captains and the like in the series. Their chapter will likely be introduced in February or March I believe. It will also introduce Harry's new ship. It's pretty fucking awesome I think. You will also be able to vote on his new ship's name when it's introduced.

A/N2: I have a new iPad [Air 2] from my mom, she got it for free I guess but I have to pay 20 a month to her(such a flashback to being a teen and having my first cell phone…) since it's not just a wifi one, it's cellular and on her plan. Dunno what my bandwidth is on it but since I'm always home, no need to even turn on the cellular plan(hope it's rollover for data). Still need a new keyboard for it but I'll have to wait for January or February.

A/N3: Gran's Dementia has taken on a new twist. She believes she's married and her new husband is in Texas with her dad(who's been dead for 35 years) teaching people in the Peacecorps how to farm so they can then teach people in Africa how to farm.

A/N4: Still working on getting my series ideas to brit producers.

* * *

She froze. Riker. Commander Riker was standing in front of her. Then she realized he was holding the hand of a woman that wasn't Lt. Commander Deanna Troi or his other wife.

"Lieutenant Alexis Eclipse?"

She nodded. "Y-yes, Commander Riker?"

He smiled at her. "Not Commander Riker." Technically he lied since he had been promoted post-separation but he knew she meant William.

~•~

Riker studied the young white-blonde haired young woman. She had been the youngest person accepted into Starfleet Academy at nine years old. Finishing both it and Command School at thirteen, she had spent the next four years working as an Analyst at Starfleet Intelligence until she turned eighteen and elected to teach at the Academy for a year instead of a fleet assignment. Two years of teaching had her realize she had no interest in command and transferred to the Academy permanently.

"I'm Thomas Riker, his transporter-clone."

"Oh! I read all about that! You left Starfleet, didn't you."

"And I accepted a job with an acquaintance of yours. While he and I were discussing that we needed flight trainers, he mentioned your name and I contacted my friends at the Academy and got your records. I'd really like to hire you to teach my students how to fly."

"I don't know, I—"

Riker held out a PADD with orders for her to take two weeks of leave. "I think you'd enjoy at least seeing our facilities. And Harry says hello."

She blushed. "Oh."

~•~

Harlotia sat with her hands clasped, looking like a demure woman until the vehicle they were in came to a stop. "It's off?"

"it's off," Riker replied.

She bounced out of her seat. Her fear of magic affecting muggle devices left her to think she shouldn't move at all. The flight from Peverell One to Earth she had spent most of the trip in their cabin, trying not to move too much. Riker had tried to convince her that she could move around safely but she had been adamant. And adamant about no sex during the trip. She didn't want to magically blow something up due to an orgasm. Riker had been too busy trying not to laugh at her notion to feel cheated.

She took his hand and pulled him out of the runabout.

They were in the valley where Hogwarts once stood, a still magically protected one.

"Here," she said, pulling him to where the gates still stood. "This is where Grandpa Harry and Grandma Hermione proposed to Grandma Fleur." Harlotia was from the Fleur line of Potters.

"Please don't remind me that Harry's your ancestor. It makes me feel like a pervert."

She giggled. "But still, this place, right here. I always wanted to stand here one day. Thank you!"

He smiled and pulled her into a kiss.

"C'mon," she said. "Let's see how much of the village still stands."

They found a handful of foundations and one building still standing. She stood in the middle of a street and did mental math, trying to figure out where she was.

"Oh! This is the Hog's Head. Professor Dumbledore's brother owned this place. And Harry led the fight against the Fire Cultists out of the backroom of this place."

"He was an auror, though. How come he didn't work from the Ministry?"

"He was teaching at Hogwarts, too. So he used this place because there was a magical door from a painting of their sister that led to the school."

She slipped her wand into her hand then flicked it at the door. It fell apart as it opened. She winced. "Ooh, I'm gonna get in trouble for that, I bet." She poked her head into the building and saw tables and chairs still standing.

"THere's so little dust," Tom said. "Or cobwebs."

"He was a Dumbledore," she replied. "When they were all alive, Riddle, Dumbledore, and Grandpa were the three most powerful wizards alive. And all half-bloods. Stupid purebloods."

"You're a pureblood," he reminded her.

"Only because all my grandparents were magical," she replied. She grabbed his hand. "C'mon, let's take a walk around the lake. Grandma Hermione's book said that's where they first kissed and he scratched their names in a tree. Let's see if we can find it!"

~•~

"Where did my smalls go!?" she said hours later, frantically looking around the small clearing they had made love in.

Riker took them out of his pocket. "Right here, my love."

She grinned as she took them back. "I really like this pair."

Harlotia gave him a soft kiss. "I can conjure a tent. Want to stay here tonight?"

"Our people are expecting us, Loshe," he said, taking her hand and kissing her finger tips. "Besides, you have a breakfast meeting with muggleborns and I need to go hire another person."

~•~

Riker kissed Harlotia's shoulder then slid out of bed, slowing to admire the view she was then dressed carefully and left the house they were staying in, an old mansion in the Diplomatic Row in Versaille that Harry had purchased because it abutted the property of the Klingon Embassy. The Chateau had mostly survived the Eugenics wars and World War III and had served as a hospital during the latter.

Now an elderly pair of muggleborns directed the InfilCorps and the Muggleborn Greeters that lived on Earth or colonies in the system.

As he left the chateau, the couple were already up and Ella held out a large travel mug of the amazing coffee they had served the night before. "Good luck with your mission, Commandant."

Riker took a long sip as he walked to the waiting row of commercial transports.

"Sir, this is a for-hire," the driver said as he got in.

"I know. I have latinum. Take me to Black Forest trail head 9 in Germany."

Once there, they found a food truck just opening up run by an eight foot tall Hupyrian. Riker ordered a pint of their chowder and a fist sized loaf of rye with the Starfleet chevron built into it. "Good to see you, Ted." The alien turned rapidly at his name being used and the human woman working with him ducked as the hot pan in his hand would have brained her easily.

"Will!"

"Actually, I'm Tom."

"Oh. Wow. Then Tom!"

He left the food truck and pulled the much smaller human into a bear hug.

"Now I have two Riker friends!" he said happily, swinging him around.

He set Riker down and took out an ornate silver box. "Beetle snuff?"

Riker took a pinch and sneezed after huffing it.

"Ugggh, I always forget how nasty this stuff is." Riker took a sip of the soup. "I just came for the soup and to say hi. I have to go see about hiring a professor for the Academy I work at."

"You left Starfleet?" Tedshian said incredulously.

"Yeah. These people are building their own exploratory arm. I'm building a new Starfleet, from the ground up. It's very exciting."

"You come back soon, okay?"

"I will. And I'll bring my wife. She's here in France right now, working on something. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

Riker finally got away after thrice promising to bring her by then he and his driver were off to Switzerland as he ate his breakfast, dipping torn off hunks of the rye bread into the thick chowder.

At the location, Riker told the driver to wait again and opened the gate to a small rowhouse.

He knocked on the door and a Dreiling answered the door.

Riker's 'Caster—Harry had been incredibly annoyed by the name but wouldn't explain why—cleared his holster and he put four stun shots into the creature. The bat-faced alien hit the ground and Riker spat on it. "Filthy Dreil!"

His Squand was in his offhand and he whispered, "Sensumsuperiora!" His pronunciation was off but the spell was still triggered since it was an enchantment on the Squand and not him attempting to cast a real spell.

The lights became too strong and he whispered the spell to add darkened lenses on his eyes. He could hear—and differentiate between—five different heartbeats. Two more double heartbeats of a dreiling, a human's single beat, and two others' he wasn't able to tell offhand.

Then he heard the sibillant hisses of a pair of Ferengi playing Tongo. He growled. Ferengies and Dreil working together to hold a human hostage. On Earth. He was going to take them back to Peverell One and lock them up and throw away the keys.

He could smell a Dreil coming around the corner and he shot it five times then a sixth as it lay on the ground to make sure.

As he approached the room where all three other heartbeats came from, he looked at the display on his arm. Still invisible and noiseless.

Riker stepped into the room and shot the ferengis in a 1-2 pattern four times each.

He touched the pad on his arm and his disillusionment and silencing spells dissipated.

"Will?!"

"Tom, actually. Transporter accident clone."

"Oh. Wow. When?" the human asked as Riker pulled a knife and cut him free, ignoring the fact Riker had some sort of personal cloaking device for the moment.

"Few years ago back when I was still on the Potemkin, back in '61."

The man hugged Riker and kissed both his cheeks.

"I came to offer you a job like I said before in my letter. The coded datum was really well done. Sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

"I accept the job, just get me away from these bastards!"

"We're taking them with us," Riker told him. "My boss is going to want them to be interrogated."

He tapped his comm badge. "Landor, it's Riker. Scan the area I'm in and beam up the two dreils, the two Ferengi, and the human with me."

"Gotcha boss."

"Anything you need from here?"

"Just my comp—"

His voice faded away as the transporter took the man.

Riker pulled a few duffel bags from his bag and moved through the place, tossing the man's belongings into duffels and the latinum and other valuables. He hesitated on the Tongo wheel then decided to take it as a trophy.

~•~

Landor smiled at the older man. "Professor Langstrom I presume?"

"You're much too beautiful to annoy me with that old chestnut."

She smiled. "Lieutenant Commander Rosalyn Landor. Riker's pilot on this trip back to Earth. Welcome to the Errant Venture." Harry had finally decided on a name for his casino ship, unknowing of the Expanded Universe correlation.

A young man walked in wearing a dark purple uniform with gold epaulets and frog fasteners for the jacket. "Professor, if you'll follow me, we'll take you to see the doctor then we'll get you a suite on the Gold Deck."

"Of course lad, lead the way."

~•~

Riker put his comm badge on the duffel bags and said, "Beam 'em up."

They disappeared then a few seconds later, his comm badge was returned alone.

"Thanks."

"No problem, Commandant. The professor is in the sickbay. We'll be ready for you tomorrow."

* * *

Harlotia removed her wand and moved it in a flawless pattern then spoke the incantation. The ewer of water that had been pouring continuously began pouring thumb-sized emeralds.

The little girl reached forward hesitantly, then picked it up. "It's real!"

"It looks and feels real," Harlotia said. "But if you looked at it under a microscope and knew what the design was, you'd see it's just flawless colored glass. Keep as many as you'd like though. They'll exist forever."

The girls' parents—both exobiologists in the Terran Terraforming Survey—were luckily home at the same time.

Her father put down his tricorder—his fifth in fact—and sighed. "They'll start working correctly later?"

"You'll need to … umm recompile, I think? Usually we have muggleborns doing this reveal but I was coming to Earth with my husband for something and wanted to do it too."

"How long would she be at the school?"

"We always suggest families emigrate to the planet for the duration so there's little time wasted on travel. But school begins on September first—" by Earth's calendar, not theirs "-and breaks for the winter holidays on the twelfth of December. Students return on January seventh. The Easter break is the week that brackets Easter. Classes end on June third. The conversions from Earth to our year are in the front of the school packet I'll give you now."

She pulled tickets out of her small purse and handed them over. "Tickets for the Errant Venture with the comm signal."

She took book after book out of her small purse, making all three peoples' eyes widen as the stack became six books tall and a thousand times too much area to fit in her small beaded purse. "These are all the books you should look at, Katie, to decide if you want to go and for you to decide if she should. The final book is for your parents to read," she said, handing it over so Katie could not see the cover. On Magical Degradation in Muggleborns. Each book had spells that compelled them not to speak about magic with anyone who didn't already know.

Harlotia said goodbye then stepped outside. Once she was at a designated transport site—to protect people from getting hit by ground cars if they transported onto a road or other foolishness—she tapped her comm badge then apparated back to the chateau.

She was immediately greeted by two children who were also muggleborns staring at her in awe.

"What?"

"You're a princess?"

She laughed. "No. We have one princess, she's my rather distant cousin. Our direct ascendant that is the same is the Emperor. She's the firstborn of the firstborn and so on. And all her roles are ceremonial so even if the Emperor wasn't around, she'd still just be a ceremonial figurehead."

"And he's really still alive after four centuries?" asked one of the parents.

She nodded. "It was a confluence of a number of incidents that led to his immortality, we think. He was stranded for a few centuries so no testing could actually be done. And now when our researchers mention it, he glares them into submission. He's… fairly powerful magically, politically, and just personality-wise."

* * *

Riker sneezed a half dozen times then rubbed his nose until it turned red as Harlotia listened with rapt attention to Tedshan's tale of Riker saving his life from a Greater Horned Garlus. He passed the beetle snuff box back, regretting taking it again but still thinking about another pinch, possibly. He winced at the tale.

"That's not—" Riker tried to protest.

"Shush," Harlotia told him, putting her hand over his mouth.

After the story ended and a long goodbye and a promise of visiting again, they were walking away, Riker said, "It was a Lesser Horned Garlus, a female who was just trying to scare him away from her nest, and I actually got a demerit for stunning a brooding mother."

"Have you learned nothing?" she teased. "Never ruin a good story with facts!"

He laughed and pulled her close. "How about the fact I want to take you right here, right now?"

She grinned and kissed his chin then they disappeared from where they stood.

* * *

"Sire!"

Harry turned and nodded at Talonforge, one of his chief Magitekineers huffing madly as he had his hands on his knees, looking like he was going to vomit. "Sit down," Harry told him. "And remind me to enforce a health plan that requires magicals exercise."

Kanir, the Vulcan who worked with Talonforge nodded. "That would be most logical. I have seen many wizards apparate upstairs instead of walking up them."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose at that reminder. "Keep breathing, Talon. What's up, Kanir?"

"We have been studying early entertainment programs while working." Harry nodded. Most magicals were addicted to a new serial based on one of his old favorite shows, Babylon 5. It had been rewritten from a magical viewpoint and with contemporary aliens instead of fictional ones as a fusion of the series and Earth's politics pre-Starfleet/Federation. "A series was recently transmitted on the Blue Sun station known as Voltron. Magitekineer Talonforge believes that with little work a planetary defense force could be built based on the cumulative design parameters of the fictional series by utilizing the Gryffin model with a conversion to a fighter."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose again, this time hard enough he winced. But didn't stop pinching. "Fine, work up a budget to build a prototype and go away before I regret letting you do this."

"Sire?"

He turned and saw Kanir had not left. "Yes?"

"The range of floos, do you know how distant they can go? The floo seems like it could be used like a jumpgate if enlarged to fit ships."

Harry nodded. "Write up a proposal, it's an idea I had while stranded. I'll forward my notes on the floo work I did."

He nodded and left while Harry waited for him to get out of Vulcan earshot then sighed. Three projects based on fiction from his youth: Jumpgates, Voltron, and he had received a grant proposal for working lightsabers.

The jumpgate idea reminded him of Hermione's favorite science-fiction show and then remembered the aliens from it. "… Merlin, yes!" he whispered.

He apparated right out of the castle, tearing the spells apart that protected it.

~•~

Imperial Aurors Aurella and Feebs were pointed at by a researcher who looked incredibly angry. "Come with me," he told them.

As they followed, they heard him mutter, "He did it again! All he has to do is step outside or in a handful of designated apparition zones and he can do so safely without ripping the spells around the castle apart! He's lucky he's the Emperor!"

It took the researcher and the two Aurors half an hour for the three to finish resetting the spells and it would take another two weeks of reinforcing to get them back to what they were.

"Arse," the researcher muttered. "Please remind the Emperor that not all of us have obscene amounts of control and power to spare to redo the spells."

~•~

"Of course, Sire. I think you're right. It's a fine idea."

Harry shook the witch's hand. "I'll expect to see the proposal in place for the Academy. I'm off to speak to the Headmasters now."

He apparated out of the woman's office.

* * *

Rochelle giggled as T'pau licked her hand clean of peanut butter.

T'ana looked to see if Soran had finished his snack and saw he was still slowly eating the celery, peanut butter, white raisins, and carob slivers.

She took a damp rag and wiped the girl's hands clean of saliva and dirt then set her back down with her brother.

"Your mother will be returning in forty two minutes. Let's get you two cleaned up fully."

In the bathroom, she drew a bath and let herself smile at their antics in the water.

"Why are you bathing them in water?" her husband asked when he walked in. "Would not sonics be more efficient?"

"Efficient yes. But lacking in experiences."

He nodded. "Yes, new experiences. Perhaps I should experience a bath. I have never been fully immersed in water."

"I shall run you a bath afterwards," she told him.

He stooped to touch his grandchildren's foreheads then left the room to finish his work.

"Father," T'ana heard as she finished fastening the closures on Rochelle's outfit.

Before she could grasp Soran, he recognized his mother's voice and dashed out of the room.

"Hello, Soran. Have you elected to become a naturist?" she heard her daughter say. "I believe you have a great-aunt who lives in the Kor'gell community, a naturist preserve in the Khomi province."

"That is correct," Sonar said. "She is one of the caretakers."

T'ryl brought her son back into the bathing room and redressed him while her mother brushed her granddaughter's hair. "You have returned early."

"I finished my appointments earlier than I calculated I would. Soran, you are not old enough to elect to be a naturist," she told him then kissed his nose. He giggled and said, "Mama!"

"I have received requests to pair bond the twins from a number of people. What shall I tell them?"

"That they will be raised human until their eleventh birthdays where a choice will then be made." Dependent upon their receiving their letters to Hogwarts.

"Where is T'pau?"

"She is sleeping in the garden," she heard her father say. "I shall inform her you're leaving."

When she came out carrying Soran, followed by her mother who held Rochelle, they saw T'pau holding handles to the the baby bag full of supplies in her mouth.

"Harry tamed her well," T'ana said. "I've never seen a Sehlat trained as well as she is."

"Not perfectly," T'ryl said as she took the bag. "Thank you, T'pau.

"She likes to hunt gnomes."

"I believe Harry trained her to do that," her father said. "He would throw them for her to catch and taught her how to entice them out of their holes."

"Why would he do that?" T'ryl asked.

"They're a pest and she's a predator," Sonar said. "It is only logical. And from how satisfied T'pau looked, they must be quite delicious to her."

"Do you need help out to your conveyance?" Sonar asked, looking out then saw Elisabetta walking up. "Ah, you do have help."

She nodded as Elisabetta held her arms out to take the bag and Soran. T'ryl took Rochelle from her mother. "Harry wished for me to invite you to dinner with us next Potterday."

"We will be there. Time?"

"Dusk."

~•~

Harry smiled as he was awoken from his nap by the twins crawling onto him with Rochelle poking her fingers in his mouth.

"Hello little ones. Where's your mu—ah," he said as T'ryl stepped out of their bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body.

"Where are we dining tonight?" If they dined in the formal dining room, she dressed for that. If they dined in their flat, she just wore the Vulcan version of a dressing gown.

"Formal dining room. I had an idea and was talking to the headmasters about it then had another idea when a student was discussing a book she had found in her grandparents' belongings when she helped her parents pack it up. A team of Magitekineers will be joining us."

She nodded. "And after? Will we go out?"

"No, well unless you want to?"

"I would rather stay in."

Harry nodded, watching her dress, resisting the urge comment on the quality of her figure to the twins. Instead, he wrapped those thoughts away and picked up Rochelle. "You look so cute today!"

She smiled as he kissed her forehead. "Cute Daddy!"

"That's right, your dad is super cute," he replied.

~•~

Harry and T'ryl said goodnight to the twins then left Elisabetta to read her new book while the twins slept.

In the dining room, their guests stood behind the seats with their names on cards.

Harry gestured them to sit as he did. "No formality, okay? This idea, it'll be pretty expensive, I think."

"What is the idea?" T'ryl asked as an Auror poured her wine for her. She nodded in thanks then took a moment to breathe in its bouquet before taking a sip to verify it had been denatured. She had recently drunk three fingers of real scotch with Harry and it had led to her being embarrassed at her actions.

Harry took out his wand and a nearly accurate rendering of their system appeared, showing how Alpha III and Alpha IV occupied the locations of One AU for their planet and point eighty-four AUs irrespectively then the two inner planetoids, the two large gas giants—one with an inhabitable moon, and a massive iceball the size of a planet orbiting the other gas giant with a massive ring of mineral rich debris belt where four planets and a gas giant all collided just after the formation of the system.

A ring began to form and for a moment she thought he was going to say he wanted to build a dyson shell.

"A point nine two AU ring, 7777 kilometers wide. It would add a significant amount of land to the system," Harry said.

The magitekineers pulled out folders and styluses and began writing, converting the numbers.

"How thick?" one asked.

"You gotta figure that out," Harry said. "But with a number of areas where it'll be thicker to have storage space. probably. We need three oceans, though, two saltwater and one fresh."

Dinner ended up being somewhat of a mess. Harry was amused when both magitekineers realized they had been so absorbed with the numbers, they hadn't touched their food. Darby, incensed and horrified, had packed their food for them and Harry included a bottle of wine each as they left. He tucked MADDs with the Ringworld novels scanned into them so they could study them for ideas.

As they walked back to their flat in the castle, she asked, "Do you believe that your people can build a megastructure in a timely manner?"

"It took us two generations to turn this dirtball into the planet it is," Harry replied. "It takes Federation terraformers a century to just get a dirtball producing enough greenhouses gases to begin."

* * *

Harlotia pushed Riker to the side and picked up their daughter, cooing as she kissed the girl's face repeatedly, making the girl giggle.

Riker picked himself up off the divan he had landed on as their nanny grinned at him. He rolled his eyes then smoothly extricated the girl from her mother. "C'mere, Betty." She was named for Riker's mother, Bethia. "Have you been a good girl?"

"She vomited all over your trombone," Caliopiea said, "but I got it all cleaned up. Well, Lolly did. She said an antique instrument should be hand cleaned."

"I'm sure it's fine," he replied. "When did she nap?"

"She's been up since I finished reading my book so about… two hours? But she only slept for like twenty minutes, just long enough for me to read the last chapter. Before that we played some games, didn't we?" She gestured at the toys strewn around their quarters on the Errant Venture.

Harlotia took the girl to their room as Riker spoke with Cali for a few moments before she started to pick up before going to her own room.

When he walked into their bedroom, he found his wife and daughter on the bed, Harlotia trying to teach her how to play Patty-Cake.

The girl's motor skills were good enough that her Patty-Cake was somewhat passable but she only got a few words right from the rhyme that went with it.

Riker learned against the hatch frame, watching with a smile on his face.

* * *

Harry sat down at his new desk—a concession to the fact that he was getting more and more paperwork daily—and read the new stack of parchment for the day.

The MADD flashed a line as complete every time he finished a report.

"Darby?" She appeared and he asked, "Could you get me a bottle of chocolate butterbeer ple—" She vanished. "—ase?" Then returned, setting the bottle of butterbeer on a coaster on his desk. "Thanks, Darby."

She smiled then disappeared again.

He went back to reading, taking the occasional drink as he made notes on separate sheets of parchment.

"Really, really vindictive of Hermione," Harry muttered. "'He gets himself trapped alone, I'm gonna make him pay for this,'" he said, squeakily mocking Hermione's angry voice.

He laughed to himself, remembering a time that Fleur and Hermione heard him doing that and made him sleep at Ron's. One night of snoring and Harry had come home, pleading on his knees. Their children had giggled without mercy at their father's actions.

He finished off the file on the two dropouts from the Academy—those who failed out had to do fifteen years of service to the planet, including two months of guard or maintenance duty at their penal colony at the southern pole—then picked up the file on the goings on in the Universe at large.

He hesitated then set that aside for last. It would be interesting. Everything else was boring.

After another hour, he was down to his last three files. The first was from the new Jumpgate project lead, Kanir. They needed to lease a workspace near New Vulcan's Forge. They would then begin the process of aligning the four dimensional address from a floo on Peverell One to a floo on Vulcan. Harry wrote it off as a personal expense.

The second was from the Potter Foundation. They were unhappy with how much money Harry was spending, even with him matching it coming back in from his shipping concern—which was becoming one of the best in the quadrant due to his cheating. A Somebody-Else's-Problem hex had anyone who didn't have business with the ship not pay attention to it. They had to deactivate it on entry to a system but they could then say it had an older cloaking system due to Harry's adoptive Klingon father. Harry wrote a note telling the board of the Foundation to grow up.

The third folder was opened and he read through it idly then saw Picard had been removed from the Enterprise and a new captain named Jellico had command. He wondered why Riker didn't have the command then shrugged it off. he was sending a letter to Deanna in a few days. If he was allowed to know, he was sure she would tell him.

His Floo came to life and he saw Cirillia looking at him, grinning. "Hi grandpa!"

"Aren't you at school?" Only the professors had outbound floos.

"In the village at the inn."

"Ah. How's it going?"

"Really great! I ran a six minute mile. And I've been doing really well in the combat class. Oh, and I'm third in dueling!"

"Excellent! Have they started the new language course?"

She nodded. "I didn't know runes were actually a language!"

He laughed and she giggled. "Of course they are. Luckily, we know how they sounded back then. There are languages like Attic Greek that we only know from writing so we have NO idea how they're spoken so we make best guesses."

"Oh, I gotta go, grandpa. The next person is waiting."

He nodded and waved goodbye then she disappeared.


	12. Chapter 11

STHP:Prologue11

A/N: My grandmother broke her ankle Monday night. it was LITERALLY almost twisted off, facing backwards, bone was visible. So, once again, should you want to help out with the many upcoming bills due to co-pays and what the insurance doesn't cover: patre on dot com slash PCo

A/N2: Early Supporters will get to name or have tertiary characters named after them.

A/N3: She's in a nursing home for the rehab but is being an absolute bitch to the staff due to her dementia/not being in her comfort zone….

A/N4: Upping this rather early as an early christmas present to all of you. I hope your days to come are ever so much better than mine, my friends.

* * *

Harry looked at his current fleet of ships. Each one was 'painted' with a substance that could change between vantablack and a marble white that reflected light back at exactly one angle, making the white whiter than anything in the universe save a family of beetles where the idea for the white had come from. Because of the formatting of the white paint, it caused a weird visual of the ship where only the area exactly in front of the person was visible to a person looking at it, anything that was a degree off faded from their view. Harry had set some people to thinking up other uses for the paint.

They were all mounted together on the temporary command/hospital ship design, two three point isotoxal stars with a pillar extending upwards. Each of the seven Sapir class ships were docked to the points of the stars with the seventh in the center of the hull. The seven Mage class ships were mounted on the top of the hull on opposite side of where the Mage classes were docked while the seventh ship was docked to the hull in front of the command bulb atop the hull.

The symbol of the Empire, the Deathly Hallows stained each ship in Red, Green, and Blue, the Wand in red, the stone green, the cloak in blue though when all were connected, they did so that the ships' name and the symbol were hidden or shutters covered the Modified Elder Futhark runes, written in such a way it took Starfleet's Universal Translators over four hours to discern it from the full alphabet and a nine thousand word story. A conversation in Elder Futhark with a Vulcan using a UT had had to listen for six hours before a rudimentary translation matrix had been done. Harry had been disappointed. He had wanted it to take longer.

The ships were hidden in a framework Hank had design on a whim as a student at the Academy, a folding frame that could be used as a portable spacedock. It had had flaws so it had never been pressed into service but as a stationary unit, they had cast a fidelius on it then parked the ship in it with its stationkeeping force until it was ready for service.

Harry turned off the screen that showed him the interior of the spacedock and smiled at the twins as they held up the buildings they had made. They were definitely quite Vulcan. Less than three years old and they had built a model castle that was exactly to scale of the castle they lived in.

He pulled them into his lap and smiled. "How about some ice cream?"

They nodded and Rochelle lisped, "Thlimmies?"

Harry wondered what she meant by that but waited for them to stand then took their hands and led them down to the kitchens.

They waved at the house-elves working there. Darby immediately sidled over and Harry told her, "A tin roof sundae for us to share."

"Thlimmies!" Rochelle insisted.

"Right away."

When she returned with the sundae, Harry realized what thlimmies were. Nonpareils. The sundae was covered with peanut comfits. He wondered why she wanted more peanuts on the ice cream but didn't say anything as he helped the twins onto stools then sat across from them at the chef's table.

T'pau settled under the table and Harry said, "Don't feed her peanuts," to Soran. "Sehlats are carnivores, not omnivores."

"Whazat?" Soran asked.

"Carnivores eat only meat," he simplified, not wanting to discuss how some carnivores ate plant matter for various reasons. "Omnivores, like you and I, eat meat and plant matter. Like celery." Though to cater to vulcan sensibilities, the twins ate a carefully balanced meal with transfigured plant matter to meat so if they elected to adhere to their Vulcan background they wouldn't have the memory of real meat.

"Tacos?" Rochelle asked.

"Tacos are an omnivorous food."

"Dinner tacos?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled. "I don't decide dinner, Darby does," he lied.

"Tacos!" she said, turning to Darby. She looked to Harry who shrugged.

"Tacos," Darby confirmed.

Both children cheered.

With the sundae finished, he sent them back to their room with T'pau, followed by one of the house-elves who was charged with watching their every step—there were four with the duty, two for each 12-hour shift.

Harry turned to Darby. "Thlimmies?"

"Yes? You want some, Sire?"

"That's what they're called? That's not her lisp?"

"No. That's the item. Carob covered peanuts, Sire."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay. Progress…," he muttered as he walked away. The house-elves giggled at his statement then went back to preparing the meal for the canteen for the various others employed in the castle.

* * *

Harry studied the progress of the various projects.

The lightsaber idea was still in its infancy. That was fanciful and mostly pointless. He had allocated only two researchers and minimal money.

The Jumpgate program was in the primary tests stage: the floo on Vulcan was receiving its items but there were transmission issues. The fruit sent had been flash frozen during the trip and shattered on arrival. Or possibly exploded. There were disagreements on just what happened and the memory hadn't arrived yet for Harry to review. The video had been from one bad angle. Harry had pointed out their testing room should have full holo-visuals. It was being refitted.

The Fleet prototypes were complete while the infrastructure was building more infrastructure.

The Voltron project was, annoyingly, Harry found, ahead of schedule. The House-elves and goblins in the fleet had begun working in earnest on seven of the Griffin ships that would then be used to figure out how to make them combine into one massive humanoid bipedal—tank, Harry decided. He couldn't remember the term the show used and didn't care to watch it again. Once when it had aired had been enough.

The language program was going to slowly work, he hoped. Having his people switch from English as their primary language to Elder Futhark was going to take a century or so, he was sure. But most people liked the idea though English would remain the official language of the schools.

He made a note to have one of the new Universal Translators that used bio-neural gel packs instead of crystalline based circuitry to test it around magic. They had determined that the failure points in Federation technology was the crystals. He wanted to find out of the prototype gel packs could be used safely. If they could, Harry hoped they could utilize them in their magitek computers. He tagged that to forward to the Vulcan that acted as his Quartermaster out of their 'embassy' in France.

A chime sounded and he looked up to see Commandant Campbell. "Morning, Commodore. We arrested some smugglers who were using the station to transfer Orion slave girls."

Harry blinked. "What's their criminal record like?"

"Not their first offense as slavers."

Harry put his parchment down and looked at the ceiling. "Do you feel comfortable spacing them?"

Campbell blinked, about to say something then shook his head. "No-not particularly." The Federation had no death sentence for criminals.

"Are they wanted by any other government?" Harry asked.

Campbell turned away and searched their names in the criminal database again, this time looking for non-Federation charges.

"They're wanted by the Andorians for weapons smuggling." Harry shook his head. They were Federation. "The Romulans for stealing a shipment of stembolts." Harry raised an eyebrow. One had to transfer a billion or so at a time to make any sort of profit. "Ahh, the Klingons want them for kidnapping children."

Harry grinned and Campbell shivered at the manic glee in the young man's cold, cold eyes. "Contact the Klingon Ambassador to Earth. Let him know we have them. Then tell the slavers we've informed the Klingons." Harry started to end the transmission then remembered. "Oh, Happy birthday. You're my favorite number."

"Deviant," he replied, smiling at Harry remembering. "Thanks. Never thought I'd live to 69. Neither my dad, granddad, or either of my grandmothers lived this long."

Harry nodded and killed the connection. He turned to Phoenix. "Did I get him a birthday gift?"

"Yes, Sire. A case of 2348 Romulan Ale and a first run print of his great-grandfather's book. You suggested the book?"

"Right, right. Good idea on the ale."

"Thank you, Sire. We have a lot of it to dispense, after all." They had gotten it in an estate sale when Harry had been trying to get the deceased's weapons designer's designs but everything had been in tricorder proof crates with no idea of what was in them. A ferengi had gotten them and they had had to pay through the nose for them. "Anything else?"

Harry shook his head and went back to reading.

He started to say Darby's name when the house-elf appeared with a mug of tea. "Thank you," he told her and she disappeared as he took a sip.

Harry was distracted from his last file on a request to build a giant space-whale—he made a note to have the researcher tested for mind-altering potions—as a giant generational ship capable of housing a billion people for travel through the Galactic Core. Harry added a note to it to also have the man flogged if he sent another one of the requests then erased it, afraid someone might take him seriously. the Imperial Religion was slowly growing. There had been a thousand adherents when he returned. Now there were almost fifty thousand.

The twins wandered into the throne room and dashed over to him, followed by T'pau.

He tossed the parchment aside and picked up the two, making them giggle as he kissed their faces. "Where's Elisabetta?"

"Potty!"

* * *

Harry was idly drawing on his notepad as the mediwitch in charge of the program and her Vulcan counterpart briefed his advisory council on their latest setback.

"Did you say you've been able to sequence squibs?" Harry asked, his attention caught by Akonta's speech.

"Yes. All squibs and parents of muggleborns have a specific sequence of nucleotides on the first seven codons of the RNA molecule. All have Adenine, Guanine, and Cytosine in that order, repeated seven times."

"The likelihood of that happening is one in two to the forty-second power," said T'pon.

"I can't do the math in my head," Harry told her.

"The likelhood of it happening is less likely than finding two planets exactly alike," the Vulcan said.

"Ahh, now that one I get. Okay, so then we can make an educated guess that this is likely the sequence that denotes potential magical ability, yes?"

"Potentially," T'pon replied as Akonta nodded.

"Okay, so we can develop a test strip then. Put a drop of blood on it and if it turns purple, your children are potentially magical?"

"That was our exact plan," T'pon said. "But our next step would be to test a mage's blood with the strip."

Harry nodded. "Right, then let me know when it's ready. I'll be whichever number guinea pig you want since I presume you'll test the strips with your own blood first?"

They both nodded then left the room.

Harry was thinking about it all when he had an idea. He turned to his communications terminal and tried to contact the Enterprise. A minute later, Deanna smiled. "Hello, Harry."

"Hey. Has your DNA ever been sequenced?"

"No. Humans and Betazoids have no issue procreating so there was no reason and I've never had an illness that required it."

"Please ask Beverly to do so. I specifically want to know if you have the first seven—" he looked down for the words "—codons of your RNA are AGC repeated in each one."

"Alright, I'll let you know." Before she could ask why, Harry smiled and said, "Thanks. And nice outfit, I presume you've finally talked Riker into a baby?" She was wearing something very slinky and transparent enough he now knew she had a mole onr navel.

"Brenna and I both did but it took some doing. The pictures from Tom and Harlotia finally got him to acquiesce."

He grinned. "G'luck."

Harry shut off the signal and opened a new project folder. Campbell had suggested the idea after seeing the Klingon System Defense Network. A network of automated phaser, torpedo, and galaxy class shielding weapons depots spotted around the system. Harry had rededicated two of their UA systems to building the devices.

* * *

Commodore Cantor scowled. Somehow this Harry X had completely turned the command staff of the Enterprise to him along with a number of Admirals and Ambassadors.

He wondered what the significance of this RNA sequence was and sent a command to their medical section to start working on it.

* * *

Harry's comm system beeped and he looked at the screen. Lieutenant Commander Chanx, a Denobulan, smiled at him. The man was in charge of the mining operation on the demon planet Harry had been lost on. "Hello, sir. I just wanted to inform you that we found a huge amount of duoterium in the golden sea. Uh, that's what we call the largest liquid mass here."

"The planet's turning out to be very resource rich."

"Yes, sir. I've sent you the contract for us to harvest it. It looks like we'll be able to fuel the whole fleet for two decades with what's here."

Harry typed his name into the contract after reading it—the same provision as his original contracts—and sent it back. "Anything else interesting?"

"We've been stocking the other minerals in warehouses. I don't know if you need it but we've got a few tonnes of gold and various gemstones and the like. In total about fifteen tonnes for all." Since all could be replicated, they were no longer considered precious metals and stones. "Oh. We did find Autumna, too. Like you asked us to look for." A nonreplicable gemstone native to silica based worlds. "Not a lot. Less than a tonne of it so far." It had little value but it had shown a remarkable resemble to magicite when used in runecrafting. It was able to hold an enchantment indefinitely without runic arrays and magicite embedding.

"One of my cargo carriers will be dispatched as soon as possible. They'll also be delivering a mobile warehouse and some recreational facilities. I heard your systems have been fritzy as hell. I've also refitted an erewon class ship that can ferry you to the surface and up to the warehouse and facilities." They had no use for it and using it for his planet's mining was more useful than having it moored on the hull of Peverell One and looking pretty—it had been 'painted' gold by having a three micron thick layer of gold bonded to the hull.

"Thank you, sir. Oh the Oregon, our supplies have arrived early."

"Have a good day," Harry said and ended the signal then looked at his schedule for the next week.

There was a sound of soft speech at the entrance to the throne room then he saw the Imperial Aurors straighten.

The Auror at the front spoke up. "Announcing Nevyn of False Prophets." The name of his village. He had been cast out from his family so he no longer used their name.

"Nevyn," Harry said. "Welcome back."

The old wizard smiled. "Thanks, Sire. I really enjoyed being an illusionist on the Errant Venture." He had spent a year doing sleight of hand and illusions on the ship as an entertainer. "A Bolian princess wants me to perform at her wedding next year. I'm working on a few ideas for it."

"Don't sleep with any," Harry told him. "They have some weird sexually transmitted disease and their bodily fluids do not react well with a human's skin, turning it into a nasty acid. Though do try their tonic water. Delightful stuff. Really calms the nerves."

"I will. I came by to see if you wanted to join us for a poker game tonight? Myrdin is returning from her sabbatical and we're getting the crew together for a game."

"I'll be there unless something comes up."

"Tonight then, Sire. I'm gonna go spoil the hell out of my grandkid. I brought some really, really loud toys and enchanted them completely unsilenceable. Teach my kid to be a noisy brat as a tike."

Harry laughed as Nevyn left.

Before he could get back to reading, he heard a shouted "SIRE!" then a thud and a cry of pain.

His Aurors glared him into place while they prepared for an attack until a limping wizard holding a torn piece of his robes on his nose was escorted in. "He tripped on his robes, sire, as he dashed up the stairs."

"You alright, Toby?" Harry asked.

The wizard nodded, looking at the blood staining his fingers. The female Auror helping him began carefully prodding his nose then whispered a numbing spell and popped the cartilage back into place, eliciting another moan. The numbing spell hadn't been strong enough. She cast "Episkey" next and the nose began to heal the rest of the way. "You'll be fine, sir. But you should see Healer Violets before you go." Harry's personal healer.

He nodded, wiping up the last of the more liquid blood with his sleeve.

"What brings you by?"

"We did it, Sire! You asked for a way to disable enemy ships without damaging them. Well, we _think_ we did it. And it'll work as an area effect weapon!"

He took a sheath of parchment out of his robes and held it out to Harry excitedly.

Harry took it, ignoring the minute blood stains on it. He'd had worse from friends and enemies on him before.

The parchment was covered liberally with runes and vulcan numbers—base 7 was very popular with the research staff. He had to translate using fingers occasionally then he saw what they had done. A magicite conversion wave. It would propagate at the speed of magic—faster than the paltry speed of light—filling a bubble of space with raw magic.

"And these numbers work?"

"Our small scale test destroyed every single nonshielded workstation in the armory. Uh, we, uh, we actually need to expand our budget this year to replace them, Sire," Toby said, cringing. They were already thirty percent over budget for the year.

Harry nodded, not caring. The file said that the wave was so powerful three failing enchantments had been completely revitalized—a number of experiments had been disrupted due to the wave of magic interacting with them.

"Is it going to work in space?"

"We think so. But we need to test it."

Harry nodded. "We'll prep a ship and some starfleet and other empires' probes to test." Probes were incredibly delicate internally even if they were hardened externally. Sensors were delicate systems utilizing every facet of technologies in use, a good test subject.

* * *

The twins dashed off the ship and ran to their father as he knelt. They hugged him tightly as their mother and grandparents exited the transport they had used. "Daddy!" both said happily.

"Vulcan is really hot!" Rochelle said as she snuggled against her father.

He nodded. "But you should have both been fine. Biologically, you're both more Vulcan than human."

They looked confused. They knew they were half and half but his terms went right over their head.

"How was the trip?" Harry asked T'ryl.

"My goals while on Vulcan were achieved. Children, it is naptime."

They looked disappointed but went with Elisabetta as Harry stood and touched fingers with T'ryl as her parents greeted him then continued on.

A small smile played over Harry's lips. Her immediate thoughts were of a shower then copulation and a desire to show him the lingerie she purchased on Vulcan after showing him what they had done on Vulcan. The trip hadn't been just to see family but also to hire new staff and purchase the probes. "Your plans are my plans," he said, smiling.

"I must see to the new Vulcans."

He nodded then leaned forward and stole a kiss. Her lips tasted of fruit and he kissed her longer until she pulled away. "Let us return to the castle."

~•~

Harry was lying on their bed, T'ryl straddling his thighs and digging into his back, his occasional groans at the pleasure-pain of her massage loud when a huff sound broke their concentration. T'pau was patrolling the flat and had stopped to look at them then continued on.

She continued on and Harry chuckled. "I think she's jealous."

"She is just informing you that she is patrolling. It is a common trait of sehlat."

"Sciatic."

She moved her hands to his lower back and began massaging there.

"MUMMY!"

Harry sighed as she slid off his back then pulled her caftan on and left the room.

He pulled on his pyjama pants and a shirt then followed her out.

They found the twins in their beds, Rochelle spattered with water, crying, the vase broken and embedded in the walls next to them.

"Y-you summoned the water to you?" he asked as he picked her up.

* * *

A/N: So many people think Vulcans eliminate emotions or don't understand them. They do. But they've mastered their own, subjugating emotional responses to logical responses. What they don't understand is how sometimes humans can be incredibly logical yet allow their emotions to override that logic when they know the logical answer is the correct answer. So T'ryl understands when Harry smiles at something she does. He's amused or proud or aroused. And she may be just as much but they don't show that emotional response beyond involuntary responses such as an eyebrow raised or a quirk of the lips if their own emotional control is slipping. And now that the twins are being raised mostly human, she's allowed her own emotional control to lessen but still teaches them how to be Vulcan and human with the help of Harry and their nanny and her own rearing as help.

My headcanon is that vulcans do allow themselves the emotional responses in relationships because while a relationship may have formed logically—'we have similar interests, careers, work together well,' and so on—emotional ties will grow. A seven year need to mate doesn't mean that a Vulcan isn't going to have urges in between, just once every seven years they MUST. So in a home when a Vulcan couple is alone, one might say they love the other. And the other would respond in kind. But in public, a touch of the fingers would keep the world out while the touch-telepaths could send a surge of love feelings or a specific thought without showing emotional responses in public. A "Logical Public NonDisplay of Affection" as it were.

But as T'ryl is on his world, she's accepted that customs are different. She won't share long kisses in public but in a private corridor or a space where it's only them—or "only them" because Aurors don't count—she'll show physical affection and her exploration of human relationships—including fetishism—is logical. Also, for those wondering who I was thinking of when creating her, her name comes from Teryl Rothery and her visuals are Rachel Reilly.


End file.
